Not true that satire’s misanthropical!
But all men live within their time
And so, of course, it must be topical
And taken with a spit of rhyme.
Who claims a satire’s for the ages
Belongs in one of Bedlam’s cages;
Who claim that men have no frontier
But are the same from yesteryear
Must worship at the criticism
They say devolved from Sigmund Freud
That claims our future’s null and void.
All satire with its witticism
Hopes that its butts will bid good-byes
To running off counterclockwise.
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