| Now it was before the final assassin came
And before that nascent ascent began,
I noticed that forceps ripped out your tongue
And no one cared,
You who had once been famous,
You couldn't even rouse the yellow press
In such a public panic as we all were in
To see us with our lungs caved in--
Ah, men they danced in the streets with death masks on
And ladies lifted their skirts so high to dance
That even young men had never seen such a sea
Of white elastic encasing such a wave of cloth
Or such a waft of hair around that pink American flesh!
How could anyone object?
I lift my sword, I lift my glass,
I lift my glans for all to glance
And spill my seed and steer my steed!
We lift our arms in nimble praise of all that gentle ass!
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Abandon hope, all ye who enter here! (At least put on your socks and pants.)