As poets sing, a glorious thing is love of man for woman.
Since time began, man’s love for man is safer, tho’ less human.
The one may lead to Heav’n, indeed, though oft to Hell’s descent;
And one’s a trip to Fellowship—to Uplift, and Content.
So here’s a toast to all who boast of love for all mankind;
Who relish wit, and sing a bit and manly pleasures find.
Tho’ passion’s kiss some ass may miss when our Uplifters meet,
We all know well here is no Hell, but Friendship—strong and sweet.
The Always Inn of Supposyville
’Tis kept by a plump
Little man and his wife,
Who have chuckled half-way
Down the long lane of life.
And they got such a lot
From the journey, and there
Was so much of comfort
And good cheer to spare,
In their wee little house
That it seemed quite a shame
Not to share it, and that’s
How the “Always Inn” came.
“For,” quoth the quaint gentleman,
“Why live alone?
And as we’ve no family
Or folks of our own
“Let’s make some for others.
Of pie and preserve
I am getting more now
Than I really deserve.
“I am fat as is safe
For a man of my size,
So, considering everything,
Is it not wise
“To give to your cooking
A wide circulation,
And for me to spare you
From excess conversation?”
The dear little dame
With a mischievous grin
Agreed, so they started
Supposyville’s Inn.
And there isn’t a thing
That’s not comfortable there.
Each room has a fireplace
And cozy armchair,
With a little crane ready
For tea. And good cheer
In abundance for all
Every day of the year!
And that is the reason,
I ’spose, for the sign
That swings in the lane
From a sentinel pine.
“ALWAYS INN!” And the King,
When the cares of the state
Grow heavy, comes straight
Through the little white gate,
And cheered by the Inn keeper’s
Bright conversation
And his wife’s magic cooking
Has sweet relaxation.
And whenever the Court
Cross-examiner finds
Supposy folk worried
Or low in their minds,
He hustles them off
To the Always Inn at
The expense of the King
To return cheered and fat.
Copyright © 2025 Eric Shanower and David Maxine. All rights reserved.
