One evil have I seen in town
Two have I observed
Rings on men’s ears
That women resist to wear
Loin cloth on beauty pageant
That aborigines have made extinct
The bush is fresh
My horn is green
An original bush born
Free from townish mesh
Am bush but proud of taste
Green horn to dirt and haste
For when I blow my nose
I need not keep the waste
Unlike the town born chief
Who wraps his in kerchief
Something mannerless in town
Talks are fixed for meals
Details talked on spirits
But in serene bushes
Food and chats are variants
Nor is wine for salients
In town is something else
The dangerous execution of health
In the sucking spree of mouth
Exchange of salivary gland
Of germs and smell in bout
Blind profession of lust so bland
There is an evil in everything
Everything that’s done in town
The stiffened smile for modesty
The apology for sneezing
All images of plastic beauty
That’s worn the city gown
All these are grievous evils
The bush is fresh
Forget the horn
The townish torn
Is sufficient forlorn
1 comment:
The ways of our fathers are always right. No matter what civilization may mean, we still need to keep our sanity. Be modest.
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