I'll tell a strange tale of my Uncle Sammy
Who thought there was more than there should be of he
But instead of a diet, instead of a run,
He reduced with a hatchet, a curse and a gun.
He picked up his axe and he said to his ear
"There's a whole lot of waste that's a going on here.
I'll get rid of my passion, away with my art!"
So my Uncle Sammy -- he cut out his heart!
The blood came a-running out down to the sea
So he replaced his heart with an old factory --
When the factory blew such a stench thru his lips
His words burned like lye and his grunts stung like whips.
My old Uncle Sam filled his fist with a gun
And he shot off his feet, just like that, one by one!
"I never did like them," he told me that day
"They were parasites, never did pull their way."
He blamed all his sickness and infirmity
On his legs that did walk, and his eyes that did see.
We tried to dissuade him with reason and facts,
But he only wanted to sharpen the axe!
He preserved his fists all the better to whack
And to handle the weapons that he always packed:
The revolvers and bombs that delivered sweet rest
And helped him reduce the stature of his chest!
With every organ he ripped from his guts
He raved an antecdote to back up the cuts.
I'd swear that he wasn't a self-vivisector,
Just had greater faith in the corporate sector!
The age of computers that science defined
Has promised Sam knowledge with no need of mind.
He calls his brain "pork," and he chops off his head --
His fists make some twitches -- and then Sam is dead!"
Copyright © 1995 John Akre
Read Adelbert Humprey's Wealth of Nations.
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