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To Groucho
Most poets write of Meadowlarks
I sing instead of Groucho Marx
His lustrous eyes, each like a star
His noble brow, his sweet cigar
His manly stride, his soft moustache
His easy way with sponsors' cash
His massive shoulders, brawny arms
His intellect, his many charms
In short, unless the truth I stray from
A man to keep your wife away from.
Richard Armour was the man. Also from him:
Shake and shake
The ketchup bottle.
None will come,
And then a lot'll.
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