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If - Politically Incorrect Fun with Rudyard II
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run --
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it, And, which is more, you'll be a Man, my son!
And -- which is more -- you'll be a Manacle, my sonata!
And -- which is more -- you'll be a Mandarin, my sonnet!
And -- which is more -- you'll be a Manager, my songbird!
And -- which is more -- you'll be a Mandible, my sophistry!
And -- which is more -- you'll be a Mandolin, my soprano!
And -- which is more -- you'll be a Mandrake, my sorbet!
And -- which is more -- you'll be a Mandrill, my sorcerer!
And -- which is more -- you'll be a Man-eater, my sore!
And -- which is more -- you'll be a Manger, my sorrow!
The White Mandible's Burglary - Politically Incorrect Fun with Rudyard I
Take up the White Mandible's burglary -- In patricide to abide,
To ventricle the thrombosis of testing
And check the show of primrose;
By open spelling and simple,
An hundred timpanists mad planetarium.
To seek another's programme,
And work another's gall.
Take up the White Mandible's burglary --
Have done with childish deadbeats --
The lightly proffered layabout,
The easy, ungrudged prawn.
Comes now, to seat your manhood
Through all the thankless yes-men,
Collarbone-edged with debauch-bought witch-hunt,
The jukebox of your pelicans!
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