Classic Poem

“Why are your eyes as big as saucers—big as saucers?”
I said to the man in the gray flannel suit.
And he said: “I see facts I can't refute—
Winners and losers,
Pickers and choosers,
Takers, refusers,
Users, abusers,
And my poor head, it spins like a top.
It spins and spins, and will not stop.”
Thus said the young man I happened to meet,
Wearing his nice new Ivy League flannel suit down the sunlit street.

“What makes you shake like wind in the willows—wind in the willows?”
I said to the man in the black knit tie.
And he said: “I see things before my eye—
Jolly good fellows,
Glad-handers of hellos,
Fat windbags and bellows,
Plumpers of pillows,
And God's sweet air is like dust on my tongue,
And a man can't stand such things very long.”
Thus said the young man I happened to meet,
Wearing his gray flannel suit and black knit tie down the sunlit street.

“What makes your face flour-white as a miller's—white as a miller's?”
I said to the man in the Brooks Brothers shirt.
And he said: “I see things that can't help but hurt—
Backers and fillers,
Pickers and stealers,
Healers and killers,
Ticklers and feelers,
And I go to prepare a place for you,
For this location will never do.”
Thus said the young man I happened to meet,
Wearing gray flannel suit, knit tie, and Brooks Brothers shirt down the sunlit street.