Classic Poem

The little fox is still.
  The dogs of war have made their kill.

  Addis Ababa
  Across the headlines all year long.
  Ethiopia—
  Tragi-song for the news reels.
  Haile
  With his slaves, his dusky wiles,
  His second-hand planes like a child's,
  But he has no gas—so he cannot last.
  Poor little joker with no poison gas!
  Thus his people now may learn
  How Il Duce makes butter from an empty churn
  To butter the bread
  (If bread there be)
  Of civilization's misery.

MISTER CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS

DJIBOUTI, French Somaliland, May 4 (AP)—Emperor Haile Selassie and imperial family, in flight from his crumbling empire, reached the sanctuary of French soil and a British destroyer today. . . .

HE USED RHYTHM FOR HIS COMPASS

  Hunter, hunter, running, too—
  Look what's after you:
PARIS, May 4 (UP)—COMMUNISTS TOP FRANCE'S SWEEP LEFT. Minister of Colonies Defeated. Rise From 10 to 85 Seats.

  France ain't Italy!

  No, but Italy's cheated
  When any Minister anywhere's
  Defeated by Communists.
  Goddamn! I swear!
  Hitler,
  Tear your hair!
  Mussolini,
  Grit your teeth!
  Civilization's gone to hell!
  Major Bowes, ring your bell!

(Gong!)

  Station XYZW broadcasting:
  MISTER CHRISTOPHER COLOMBO
  Just made a splendid kill.
  The British Legation stands solid on its hill
  The natives run wild in the streets.
  The fox is still.
  Addis Ababa
  In headlines all year long.
  Ethiopia—tragi-song.