Classic Poem

Oh , the glands!
Monkey glands!
What a hope of joy and pleasure their discovery commands!
Men on crutches, old, decrepit
As a nineteen-thirteen Ford.
See how jauntily they step it
Since their glands have been restored.
See them swiftly wield the racket;
Watch them motor, golf and ride,
Clad in sporty Norfolk jacket,
Clear of skin and youthful-eyed.
Ancient men with clubs and rackets in their hands, hands, hands.
Oh, those marvelous rejuvenating glands!

Oh, the glands!
Magic glands!
Holding forth a hope of happiness each woman understands.
Aged ladies lined with wrinkles
Come with measured step and slow,
Mark the glance how gay it twinkles.
See the girlish cheeks aglow.
Figures graceful, trim and lithesome,
Spirits radiantly keen,
See them dance and flirt as blithesome
As a flapper of sixteen.
Eager boys and men obeying their commands, -mands, -mands.
Oh, those marvelous rejuvenating glands!

Oh, those glands!
Ragtime glands!
With their syncopated rhythm of a dozen Negro bands.
Though your skin is sere as vellum,
And you're ready for the shelf,
You can find a chap who'll sell 'em
If you haven't some yourself.
You may think that as a lover
All your youthful days are o'er.
You'll be better, you'll discover,
Than you ever were before,
And your pleasures will be countless as the sands, sands, sands,
If you try those syncopating —
It's the truth that I am stating —
Oh, those marvelous rejuvenating glands.