SHORT AND SWEET

What saps a nation's strength and pride? What cramps its manly form and stride, And turns its youth, unsanctified,

To coistrils and carousers? What spreads corruption's baleful breed, And makes the stoutest lad weak-kneed? Be warned—it is, it is, indeed, The cursed cult of trousers!

Aghast, the Bird of Freedom shrieks, "And shall Columbia miss the peaks, And fall from grace through wearing breeks

Of too much elongation? Ah, no!—for liberty and law All other lands on this must draw, And still be taught to look with awe On this almighty nation?"

Let Texas roast its blacks alive, Let racketeers extend and thrive, Let gangsters flourish and survive

By methods grim and gory! But knee-high shorts shall still preserve The noble mind, the fearless nerve, And still shall culture's highest curve Remain Columbia's glory!

(P.S.—If he were taught to squeeze His legs in breeks as short as these, And boldly show his valiant knees,

Be those well-clad or bony, Do you suppose this might impart A milder mood, a change of heart, A love of Literature and Art,

To Scarface A 1 Capone?) —Lucio