Editorial

Editorial

It was with boldfaced guile
Cried old Editorial Nile,
That Science divorced Conscience.

Lambaste with style
This modern moat
And weep with Mr. Crocodile
But don't rock the boat.

Sore conscience must play solitaire;
She planted love seeds in her heart
But picks blooms of despair.

Lambaste this style
Of modern moat,
And weep with Mr. Crocodile –
But don't rock the party cruise boat.

In hit tunes being broadcast
Across the Astral Spheres,
Romancers claim the Light of Earth
Is chained by felon fears.

Lambaste decaydent style
That mires this modern moat,
And weep with Mr. Crocodile –
But don't rock the Empire's boat.

When yesterdat the judge
Stuck his thumb in the fudge
None of those who counted could find malice –
It's true -- he simply had to make
Downpayment on his palace.

Lambaste with style
This modern moat,
And weep with Mr. Crocodile –
But don't rock the Country Club boat.

In vain sing songs
Of acid rain,
But now you look the other way --
The Health Department's come to spray
The Tree of Life
With chloradane.

Look what we bought you, children –
A castle with a moat.
Just learn to weep with Tio Cayman,
And never rock our boat.

-- from Beneath the Old Man's Mountains. © 1994 Matt Cygny