Millennium

 The great millennium is at hand.

Redder apples grow on the tree.

A saxophone is in ev’ry band.

Brandy no longer taints our tea.

Dimples smile in the red-rouged knee.

The dowagers are no longer fat.

Radio now makes safe the sea—
And the Turk has bought him a derby hat.


Even our sauerkraut now is canned.

Verse is a dangsight more than free.

A “highboy” now is the old dish stand.

Ev’ry flapper has her night key.

Chopin is jazzed into melody.

A child is a “kiddie” and not a “brat.
”
Bosses and miners at last agree—
And the Turk has bought him a derby hat.


All firewaters are bravely banned.

There is a ballot for every she.

The hairpin now is a contraband.

A New York mayor gets some sympathy.

My dealer brings some coal to me.

The plumber is an aristocrat.

In Miami all millionaires may be—
And the Turk has bought him a derby hat.


Son, the millennium is at hand!
What though Armenians be mashed flat?
The world is getting just perfectly grand,
For the Turk has bought him a derby hat.

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