JUNIOR HAS HIS SAY 
I do not believe in knocking, and I have but little use 
For the chap who’s always shouting acrimony and abuse. 
You would never hear the slightest little murmur of complaint 
If I were the only victim, but the sad truth is—I ain’t. 
Over all this cockeyed country, scattered round from sea to sea, 
Are, I’ll bet you, more’n a million other orphans same as me. 
We are the most orphaned orphans, for our mothers and our dads 
Have all gone completely cuckoo and haywire over glads. 
I was in the central office, checking over a few bids 
From the folks who had been sending requisitions in for kids, 
When at last I came across one that I thought would suit me fine, 
But I blush to think how easily I fell for their old line. 
“Happy home. Ev’ry attention,” was the burden of their cry. 
Happy home! It makes me snicker. Ha-ha! Happy home, my eye! 
I would like to ask them one thing: if it’s such a happy spot, 
Why do they spend ev’ry minute in that pesky garden plot? 
I can’t seem to get excited over all this daily fuss 
About nitrogen and potash, and bone meal for phosphorous. 
I’m afraid that I can’t take it, for it fairly makes me boil 
When I hear them start discussing putting humus in the soil. 
Humus! Nitrogen! Bologny! I should think that they could see 
That the thing which really matters is a pint of milk in me. 
If they weren’t completely daffy they would know—excuse the pun— 
That the only thing important around here is son—not sun. 
Boy! Was I enthusiastic and steamed up a while ago, 
When I heard them say they’d enter an exhibit in the show? 
I believe I am quite modest, and not prone to advertise, 
But I couldn’t help but feeling I would surely take first prize. 
I suppose that you have guessed it, but imagine my chagrin 
When I learned ’twas gladiolus those two nuts were entering 
And they came back tickled silly with blue ribbons and such trash, 
And a piece of Woolworth pottery which I hope some day to smash. 
Just to show you what a nitwit any real glad fan can be, 
I would like to cite what happened while my dad waited for me 
He was pacing back and forth as I am told all fathers do, 
When another guy said, “Hi there! You expecting something new?” 
And my dad he grinned all over; then the great big hunk o’ cheese 
Said, “Yes, I’ve ordered six direct from the Antipodes. 
They’re maroon, with sky blue blotches, and have won a lot of praise, 
They’ll grow nine feet tall or over, and mature in sixty days.” 
I can’t vouch for all that happened, although I have heard it said 
That the guy turned around and beat it, crying “Screwy in the head!” 
That’s where he had the advantage; he could always run away, 
But there’s nothing I can do except to stay and stay and stay. 
Yes, my folks are in the glad patch ev’ry day from eight to five, 
And they’re so completely goofy they don’t know that I’m alive. 
I’m a gladiolus orphan, without either paw or maw, 
And I am not going to stand it. No sir! BAW—WAW—WAH! 
—Burton L. Spili.f.r. 
12 
