  God’s in his Heaven:—He never issues (Wise man!) to visit this world of ours. Unchecked the cancer gnaws our tissues, Stops to lick chops and then again devours. They find who most delight to roam ’Mid castles of remotest Spain There’s luckily no place like home, And so they start upon their travels again. Beauty for some provides escape, Who gain a happiness in eyeing The gorgeous buttocks of the ape Or autumn sunsets exquisitely dying. Some swoon before the uplifted Host, Or gazing on their navels find Both Father, Son and Holy Ghost In that small Ark of Ecstasy confined. And some to better worlds than this Mount up on wings as frail and misty As passion’s all-too-transient kiss, (Though afterwards—oh, omne animal triste!) But I, too rational by half To live but where I bodily am, Can only do my best to laugh, Can only sip my misery dram by dram. While happier mortals take to drink, A dolorous dipsomaniac, Fuddled with grief I sit and think, Looking upon the bile when it is black. Chorus, in unison. Then brim the bowl with atrabilious liquor! We’ll pledge our Empire vast across the flood; For Blood, as all men know, than Water’s thicker, But water’s wider, thank the Lord, than Blood. |
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