Old Socrates who thought he knewA philosophic thing or two,Believed that man was made to walkOr lounge about the streets and talkOf life and death and virtues true,And what a fellow ought to do;While poor Xantippe, so I'm told,Remained at home to drudge and scold.But Epicurus seemed to thinkThat man was made to eat and drink,A doctrine quite as orthodox,I sometimes think, as old man Soc's;For what philosophy's completeThat can not take an hour to eat?I like old Socry, to be sure,But here I'm just an Epicure.
Old Socrates who thought he knewA philosophic thing or two,Believed that man was made to walkOr lounge about the streets and talkOf life and death and virtues true,And what a fellow ought to do;While poor Xantippe, so I'm told,Remained at home to drudge and scold.But Epicurus seemed to thinkThat man was made to eat and drink,A doctrine quite as orthodox,I sometimes think, as old man Soc's;For what philosophy's completeThat can not take an hour to eat?I like old Socry, to be sure,But here I'm just an Epicure.
Old Socrates who thought he knewA philosophic thing or two,Believed that man was made to walkOr lounge about the streets and talkOf life and death and virtues true,And what a fellow ought to do;While poor Xantippe, so I'm told,Remained at home to drudge and scold.
But Epicurus seemed to thinkThat man was made to eat and drink,A doctrine quite as orthodox,I sometimes think, as old man Soc's;For what philosophy's completeThat can not take an hour to eat?I like old Socry, to be sure,But here I'm just an Epicure.
Oh, how sick of Halley's comet!Almost makes me want to vomit.Can't pick up a magazine,Halley's comet isn't seen.When the weary day is done,Still no peace unless you shunEvery living soul you meetTalking comet on the street.Should you occupy the pews,See the Hipp or read the news,Fall asleep and chance to dream,Halley's comet still the theme.Dust to-day got in my eye,—Halley's comet passing by.Both the sense of sound and sight,Suffering from this comet's blight.When the days were hot and dry,Halley's comet in the sky.All through April frost and rain,Halley's comet raising Cain.Whoso seeks for faith or knowledgeGoes to church or enters college,Hears naught else but this discussed.—Shooting stars and comet dust.Taft and Teddy's well be dead,Like Old England's monarchEd,—Just as well as be forgotMidst this meteoric rot.Automobile passes by,Like a comet in the sky.Leaving in its awful trail,Wreaths of smoke just like a tail;See a fellow sniff the air,Stop, turn pale, and trembling, swear:"Wonder now has science lied?That gas smells like cyanide."Learned, ign'rant, rich and poor,All are full of comet lore.Life had charms that once were sweet;Earth, hast now no safe retreat?If this talk will not abate,Lord, I pray this be our fate;May this globe dissolve or fail,Passing through the comet's tail!
Oh, how sick of Halley's comet!Almost makes me want to vomit.Can't pick up a magazine,Halley's comet isn't seen.When the weary day is done,Still no peace unless you shunEvery living soul you meetTalking comet on the street.Should you occupy the pews,See the Hipp or read the news,Fall asleep and chance to dream,Halley's comet still the theme.Dust to-day got in my eye,—Halley's comet passing by.Both the sense of sound and sight,Suffering from this comet's blight.When the days were hot and dry,Halley's comet in the sky.All through April frost and rain,Halley's comet raising Cain.Whoso seeks for faith or knowledgeGoes to church or enters college,Hears naught else but this discussed.—Shooting stars and comet dust.Taft and Teddy's well be dead,Like Old England's monarchEd,—Just as well as be forgotMidst this meteoric rot.Automobile passes by,Like a comet in the sky.Leaving in its awful trail,Wreaths of smoke just like a tail;See a fellow sniff the air,Stop, turn pale, and trembling, swear:"Wonder now has science lied?That gas smells like cyanide."Learned, ign'rant, rich and poor,All are full of comet lore.Life had charms that once were sweet;Earth, hast now no safe retreat?If this talk will not abate,Lord, I pray this be our fate;May this globe dissolve or fail,Passing through the comet's tail!
Oh, how sick of Halley's comet!Almost makes me want to vomit.Can't pick up a magazine,Halley's comet isn't seen.When the weary day is done,Still no peace unless you shunEvery living soul you meetTalking comet on the street.Should you occupy the pews,See the Hipp or read the news,Fall asleep and chance to dream,Halley's comet still the theme.Dust to-day got in my eye,—Halley's comet passing by.Both the sense of sound and sight,Suffering from this comet's blight.When the days were hot and dry,Halley's comet in the sky.All through April frost and rain,Halley's comet raising Cain.Whoso seeks for faith or knowledgeGoes to church or enters college,Hears naught else but this discussed.—Shooting stars and comet dust.Taft and Teddy's well be dead,Like Old England's monarchEd,—Just as well as be forgotMidst this meteoric rot.Automobile passes by,Like a comet in the sky.Leaving in its awful trail,Wreaths of smoke just like a tail;See a fellow sniff the air,Stop, turn pale, and trembling, swear:"Wonder now has science lied?That gas smells like cyanide."Learned, ign'rant, rich and poor,All are full of comet lore.Life had charms that once were sweet;Earth, hast now no safe retreat?If this talk will not abate,Lord, I pray this be our fate;May this globe dissolve or fail,Passing through the comet's tail!