Then my sullen and sinister tummy
Rose slowly and spoke to my brain;
"Say, boss, what's the stuff you've been drinking
That fills me with nothing but pain?

"Today you had 'cocktails' for luncheon--
They tasted like sulphured cologne.
They--were followed by poisonous highballs
That fell in my depths like a stone.

"I am dripping with bootlegger brandy,
I ooze with synthetical gin;
And the beer that you make in the kitchen--
Ah, dire are the wages of sin!

"The cursed saloon has departed,
And well we are rid of the plague;
But I'm weary of furniture polish
With the counterfeit label of Haig.

"Yea, gone is the old-fashioned brewery
And the gilded cafe is no more...."
Here my tummy jumped over the pillow
And fell in a fit on the floor,




THE CENSORSHIP OF THOUGHT