Classic Poem

Ode 1.22

TREATS IT FAMILIARLY

Fuscus, old top, an honest phiz
?Fears no police-court's shameful durance;
The guy who's square—his virtue is
His life insurance.
He's playing safe. He wears his grin
?Alike in Brooklyn or Tahiti,
In Murky Michigan or in
This well-known city.
Why, once when I had lost my way
?A wolf espied and almost clutched me;
I merely sang a tune—and say,
He never touched me.
And such a wolf! It seemed at least
?A dozen to your Uncle Horace:
As Terence said, it was some beast!
Believe me, Mawruss.
Since then I've strayed without a pang
?Wherever f--kle Fo--une bore me;
No foes came near whene'er I sang—
They fled before me.
So, as a lyric Q. E. D.—
?When this here planet's “dry”—and tearful,
Keep singing. . . . That's my recipe?
You said an earful.English