The Truth About Horace
It is very aggravatingTo hear the solemn pratingOf the fossils who are statingThat old Horace was a prude;When we know that with the ladiesHe was always raising Hades,And with many an escapade hisBest productions are imbued.
There's really not much harm in aLarge number of his carmina,But these people find alarm in aFew records of his acts;So they'd squelch the muse caloric,And to students sophomoricThey d present as metaphoricWhat old Horace meant for facts.
We have always thought 'em lazy;Now we adjudge 'em crazy!Why, Horace was a daisyThat was very much alive!And the wisest of us know himAs his Lydia verses show him,--Go, read that virile poem,--It is No. 25.
He was a very owl, sir,And starting out to prowl, sir,You bet he made Rome howl, sir,Until he filled his date;With a massic-laden dittyAnd a classic maiden prettyHe painted up the city,And Maecenas paid the freight!
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