Alf’s Sixth Bit Poem by Ezra Pound

Let some new lying ass,
Who knows not what is or was,
Talk economics,
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
Those parliamentarians.

Oh what a fuss they made
Stirring the marmalade
These parliamentarians
Never an honest word
In their dim halls was heard
For more than a decade.