v
At last there is a laugh!
A rah! rah! ray! A hip hurrah!
A haw-haw! Hee-hee! Tee-hee guffaw!
A whoopee! Hoopee! Yippee! Wow!
Such celebration deserves a fanfare;
A 'feu de joie'; a gun salute -

We merrily blow our trumpets
For no reason worth a hoot.
For it is a small amusement,
A diversion from the wailing world.
It is a game, a sport of sorts
To drive the hours on.

We spin a dance: a terpsichore;
A hoof around the kirkyard hall -
A reel around the glittering ball -
And it's all a bit absurd -
Yet, after all — we're all fools.
It's ludicrous to think we're not.

vi
You'll admit, there are wits
So quick their lips merely twitch:
They tongue tunes like violinists
Fiddling on a Stradivarius.

Such banter as a joke is fine -
Kidding; ribbing; ragging; razing.
Such jesting as a give and take
Might lead to fists in faces.

But is there worse than those who are
Weary, stale, flat and dull:
Who pass through life switched off
As dreary lumps of lard?

What's more tedious than a bore?
Ho hum! Heigh ho! What a life!
Humdrum dead and near extinct?
How do they survive?