Classic Poem

I Sing the flannel shirt. I would maintain a
Discussion started first by Charles A. Dana,
Who has so much about the subject squirted
That every one believes him flannel-shirted;
Though, sooth to say, 'twixt preaching and applying,
There's often fixed a mighty gulf of lying.
Peculiar Dana! erudite, begoggled;
Long time has he upon Life's highway joggled,
Making the whole world wonder, as now I do,
When next he'd cut some unexampled dido.
I really hope he'll not get mad and swear, if
I disagree with him about the tariff.
Supporting parties, and their tenets damning,
Is nothing 'cept the keenest kind of shamming.
There's many another odd, fantastic caper
He's cut from time to time, in his great paper.
For instance, when so boastfully he blustered
About the merits of a king of mustard
Proposing for the presidential mansion—
A Western trust's obscure and feeble stanchion.
Then, too, I always fancied there was harm in
His queer ideas anent the art of farmin'.
But why waste time and paper scribbling railings
At such a good and great man's petty failings?
When after ages have forgot his blundering,
His mighty name shall still go grandly thundering
Adown the years, a snowball waxing greater,—
The flannel shirt fad's first originator.
Then yield him present fame; much weal to him an' his;
Oft may his pole reach first where the persimmon is.
When summer days are muggy, moist and torrid,
And salty rills run down the tickled forehead;
When ironed collars scratch the smarting gullet
Until it's rough and red as any mullet,
Or ridge about the neck 'till one is dull, sure,
Who sees in man no semblance to a vulture;
When pious folk, in fact, observe no sin in
Wishing to hades everything that's linen,
Immortal Charles! I think of thee. Then fancy
Comes with her weird, ecstatic necromancy,
And pictures thee in skies of glory sailing,
Thy flannel shirt about thee coolly trailing!
Hence these poor lines. Oh, damn them not with laughter—
I seek to seize the tale and follow after.