Classic Poem

Frigate Jones was very slow and fat,
In fact, he was the perfect bureaucrat.

With hands like feet, and feet in turn like legs,
It was his job to lightly step on eggs.

He watched the scene as gamblers watch the ticker,
And bought or sold upon the slightest flicker.

For he could read the weather in the sky,
And in the name of mankind, fed his “I.”

He never found it hard to speak the truth,
Since he believed as he was told, forsooth.

At pussyfooting he was Number One,
And in this gentle way his race was run.

But give him rope enough, and I opine
He'll hang himself upon a party line.