Page:The Glugs of Gosh (C. J. Dennis, 1917).djvu/108

Into his cavernous inner interior
Vanishes ev'rything strictly superior."


He calls it "Woman." he calls it "Wine." he call it "Devils" and "Dice":
He calls it "Surfing" and "Sunday Golf" and names that are not so nice.
But whatever he calls it—"Morals" or "Mirth"—he is on with the hunt right quick
For his sorrow he'd hug like a gloomy Glug if he hadn't a dog to kick.
So any old night, if the stars are right, you will find him, hot on the trail
Of a feasible dog and a teasable dog, with a can to tie to his tail.
And the song that he roars to the shuddering stars is a worthy and excellent thing.
(Yet how could you hear him singing a song if there wasn't a song to sing?)

"I've watched his abdominous, ominous shape
Abroad in the land while the nation has slept
Marked his satanical
Methods tyrannical:
Rigorous, vigorous vigil I kept.
Good gracious! Voracious is hardly the name for it!
Yet we have only our blindness to blame for it.