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Poem	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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