poetry by
Ogden Nash
(1902 – 1971)

You could tell he was wicked, for he reeked of roguery,

He was like an ogre, only twice as ogre-y,

He was twice as big as a big gorilla,

And covered with armor like an armadilla—

Armor on the front of him, armor on the back,

And every inch of it thunderstorm-black.

Sir Garagoyle spluttered like a sprinker-wagon,

“A knight can always beat a dragon!”

“Pooh!” said Custard. “How you rant!

A true knight could, but a wicked knight can’t.”

The parsnip, children, I repeat,

Is simply an anemic beet.

Some people call the parsnip edible;

Myself, I find this claim incredible.

I find it difficult to enthuse

Over the current news.

Just when you think that at least the outlook is so black that it can grow no blacker, it worsens.

And that is why I do not like the news, because there has never been an era when so many things were going so right for so many of the wrong persons.

Consider the auk;

Becoming extinct because he forgot how to fly, and could only walk.

Consider man, who may well become extinct

Because he forgot how to walk and learned how to fly before he thinked.