Poems in Praise of Practically Nothing XII

You're a pure spirit ; you're air and water ; You're nobody's son and nobody's daughter; In short, you're still in the state pre-natal — A strange condition, but seldom fatal — Well, anyhow, you're a harmless atom, Content to stay in your own stratum; You do not drink or play the horses. Or interfere with natural forces, Indulge in moods or whims erratic, Which cause the flu, and sometimes, static : — A perfect type of the homo non est. You're unobtrusive, kind and honest, As upright as an ear of corn— And what thanks do you get for it all? You're born!