Rebellious Anarchist
That Walt Whitman,
He’s a riotous old bugger.
Talk about searing words,
Chiding the posh toffs, his peers.
Very likely if they’d know,
There would have been hell to pay.
He makes me giggle,
When he calls a spade a spade.
Deliberately with etiquette he,
Tells tales of shameful acts.
But not puffed up at all,
With mighty pious pride.
Beneath a veil of rhyme,
The ridicule has got a tune.
It stalls none of my knowing,
For we have shared a dream.
Good old uncle Walt,
A reliable, rebellious peoples’ anarchist.
No comments:
Post a Comment