What ho? It's a day

Approaching life's end

When it seems there's no way

To acquire a friend

And you go to a play

That you have to attend

That has nothing to say,

No precept to defend.

 

It's the dottiest drama

You ever have seen;

A gauche panorama

Whose sponsors are mean

And the delhi lama

Is in the third scene.

It's not Cinerama;

The profits are lean.

 

You sneak to the lobby

Bummed out by this show—

Some neophyte's hobby

Was given a go…

It's corn on the cobby

You rate it a NO.

“The critics will mob ye,”

You'd have them to know.

 

The thing's a fiasco.

It bombs out and dies.

A sub with tobasco

Attracting some flies.

Their put-on with Vasco

De Gama's despised.

The viewers amass, go

With catcalls and “fie!”s.

 

It was life's allegorical

Porno burlesque,

Anti-historical,

Back by request

In a theater Dorical,

Shabby, unblessed.

Support? There's no more, a call

Skyward attests.

 

From the outgoing throngs

Pandemonium erupts

As they flee from the tongs

Of the script-writing pups

Who prate of man's wrongs

In tirades abrupt;

But the backers are strong—

They give it a Thumbs Up.