Poetry Archives

“Why shouldn’t I have a purely vegetarian drink?  Why
shouldn’t I take vegetables in their highest form, so to
speak?  The modest vegetarians ought to stick to wine or
beer, plain vegetable drinks, instead of filling their
goblets with the blood of bulls and elephants, as all
conventional meat-eaters do, I suppose”—Dalroy.

  You will find me drinking rum,
  Like a sailor in a slum,
You will find me drinking beer like a Bavarian
  You will find me drinking gin
  In the lowest kind of inn
Because I am a rigid Vegetarian.

  So I cleared the inn of wine,
  And I tried to climb the sign,
And I tried to hail the constable as “Marion.”
  But he said I couldn’t speak,
  And he bowled me to the Beak
Because I was a Happy Vegetarian.

  Oh, I know a Doctor Gluck,
  And his nose it had a hook,
And his attitudes were anything but Aryan;
  So I gave him all the pork
  That I had, upon a fork
Because I am myself a Vegetarian.

  I am silent in the Club,
  I am silent in the pub.,
I am silent on a bally peak in Darien;
  For I stuff away for life
  Shoving peas in with a knife,
Because I am a rigid Vegetarian.

  No more the milk of cows
  Shall pollute my private house
Than the milk of the wild mares of the Barbarian
  I will stick to port and sherry,
  For they are so very, very,
So very, very, very, Vegetarian.