The Book of Lies

KE®AAH NO THE TAILLESS MONKEY There is no help—but hotch pot !—in the skies When Astacus sees Crab and Lobster rise. Man that has spine, and hopes of heaven-to-be, Lacks the Amoeba’s immortality. What protoplasm gains in mobile mirth Is loss of the stability of earth. If, as Iam not, I were free to choose, How Buddhahood would battle with The Booze! My certainty that destiny is ‘*good”’ Rests on its picking me for Buddhahood. Were I a drunkard, I should think I had Good evidence that fate was ‘‘bloody bad.”