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The Truth About The Real Comedy Of Life

Woe is me, my poor, aching feet do sing
A melody and blindness to ole blue moon
The fountain of youth sold only dry sand
Remember General MacArthur did return
And could be true Atlas held up the world
A damn shame that snails win no races
No broken hearts do not climb mountains
And time is no friend to elephant fever
Caesar did not ride a old pale blue horse
And Rome delighted itself in its sad decay
Jesse James wrote no lying autobiography
And the Pope lost his wits and the Holy Seal
Poe eventually slayed and ate his nemesis
And Laurel and Hardy retired with vast wealth.

Robert Lindley, Prose with a shot of whiskey
Dec. 11th 1971

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