(On Reaching the Age of Twenty-One)

This is the year

Of legal beer

When a mustache is no affectation,

When parental


Be inconsequental

To marital (wheel) conjugation.

Bring on the liquor

And cut out the dicker

About no alcohol to a minor--

Just wrap up a quart

Of fort-

Ified port;

With my line, stein, and wine I will dine her.

I've arrived at the stage

In my mellowing age

When voting's at last become cricket,

If I choose

I'll refuse

My Gov section man's views

And vote the Republican ticket.

I've suddenly sprung

To the 21st rung

Free, white, and a step below heaven,

To rise

In the eyes

Of bartending guys,

If not of Draft Board 47.