idle remarks

sound like gunfire just the fireworks’ noise
air again polluted after cleansing rain
the foolish who value more than life their toys
are most surprised to note that in the plain
emptinesses of night their sharp disdain
of normal courtesy might seem a sort
of torment to all those who seek the port
of sleep who love the many charms of restt
his night like many will turn out too short
but what we always want is just the best

we leave such matters to the wayward boys
those who through their lives or in the main
attempt to keep their heads up by such ploys
as would their childhood memories retain
that’s the sad purpose of their old campaign
but we know that their plans will just abort
that’s been the steady the constant report
of those who say the sauce now lacks all zest
tonight we have come up with no retort
but what we always want is just the best

as we maintain our charm and equipoise
we hear around us still the antique strain
our subtlest enemy at night employs
to keep us from our sleep and yet again
make all our wishes hard to ascertain
we hide ourselves in bed as in a fort
and try our best our minds not to contort
but all seems turned into a mighty jest
there is no vale to which we might resort
but what we always want is just the best

prince though you’re tempted now to stamp and snort
do not deny yourself your best support
too often others fail the final test
but though the foolish through the streets cavort
their challenge is not one the wise would court
but what we always want is just the best