A Simple Desultory Philippic (Or How I Was Robert McNamara'd Into Submission) - Paul Simon

I was Union Jacked, Kerouac'd

John Birched, stopped and searched

Rolling Stoned and Beatled till I'm blind

I've been Ayn Randed, nearly branded

Communist 'cos I'm lefthanded:

That's the hand they use, well, never mind!

I've been Walt Disneyed, Dis Disleyed

John Lennoned, Krishna Menoned

Walter Brennan punched out Cassius Clay

I've heard the truth from Lenny Bruce

and all my wealth won't buy me health

So I smoke a pint of tea a day

I knew a man his brain so small,

He couldn't think of nothin' at all.

He's not the same as you and me.

He doesn't dig poetry. He's so unhip that

When you say Dylan, he thinks you're talkin' about Dylan Thomas,

Whoever he is.

The man ain't got no culture,

But its alright, Ma,

It's just sumpthin' I learned over in England.

I've been James Joyced, Rolls Royced

Mick Jaggered, silver daggered

Andy Warhol won't you please come home?

I've been mother, fathered, aunt and uncled

Tom Wilsoned, Art Garfunkled

Barry Kornfeld's mother's on the phone

When in London, do as I do

Find yourself a friendly haiku

Go to sleep for ten or fifteen years