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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!