Alf’s Sixth Bit
Let some new lying ass,
Who knows not what is or was,
Pay for his witless noise,
Get the kid nice new toys,
Call him 'professor'.
Lies from the specialist
Give t'old ones a newer twist
Harder to untie.
Here comes the hired gang
Blood on each tired fang
Covered with lip-stick.
'Oh, what a charming man,'
That's how the press blurb ran,
'Professor K s is.'
Now they can't fire him.
NO! they won't hire him.
Still Dr. S 's
Not tied to the ring around,
Not quite snowed under.
Being a physicist
They can't quite bribe him:
Oh, what a noise they made
Oh what a fuss they made
Stirring the marmalade
Never an honest word
In their dim halls was heard
For more than a decade.
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Comments about this poem (Alf’s Sixth Bit by Ezra Pound )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(c. 600 BCE)
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