Im told that man was once a frog
or crocodile perhaps,
Who slithered round the murky pools
with all the other chaps,
With Mr. Snake and Sally Shrimp
and rhinos big and small,
That life began back in the slime,
that swamp worms spawned us all.
We then heard of the missing link
whos missing still I hear.
But wait, hes learned to walk and think,
just how remains unclear.
Hes learned enough to start some wars
and kill most of his friends,
To read the Wall Street Journal
for the economic trends.
Now he looks through a telescope
and sees his future there.
He plans in April, first, I think,
to climb some heavenly stair.
He long since has invented god
and hopes to shake her hand,
While passing on some good advice
from Never-Never Land.
Hes now an existentialist
who teaches at some schools,
And tells the little boys and girls
there really are no rules.
No up, no down, no back, no front,
no anything you see.
We are but weary wanderers
like flotsam on the sea.
For nothing was and nothing is
and nothing can be proved;
For what was once foundational
has long since been removed.
What is the end of these strange things
no love, no joy, no sorrow?
The end of all these things is near;
the funeral is tomorrow.