Shant T. Boy
The leading question of today
Is argued everywhere,
About who’ll be the lucky jay,
To fill the White House chair.
Was Calvin nodding in the dark,
Or was it just for fun,
That he should wire that cool remark,
“I do not choose to run.”
The G. O. P. was much amazed
To hear a crack like that.
Some said that Calvin must be crazed
Or talking through his hat.
“He’s left us groping in the dark”,
Was it a joke or fun?
That he should wire that cool remark,
“I do not choose to run.”
The G. O. P. is sore beset,
Its wailings rend the air,
To find another they can get
To grace the White House chair.
No man can do what Calvin did,
No man beneath the sun,
What mystery in those words, he hid;
“I do not choose to run.”
This sentence seems to be so mild,
So simple and so plain,
That any school-boy, tot or child,
Its meaning could explain.
But Congressmen and men well read
Have conned it, one by one,
To find out what “Cal” meant when he said,
“I do not choose to run.”
Supreme Court judges tried in vain
To find what Calvin meant,
And often asked him to explain,
What was his real intent.
But Calvin shut up like a clam,
As silent as a nun,
And said, in words severe and calm,
“I do not choose to run.”
The senators from every state,
Pastors from every church
All asked why he should hesitate
And leave them in a lurch.
But still he closes up his mouth
And tells them every one,
From frozen north to sunny south,
“I do not choose to run.”
And now he’s in the Badger State,
Where summer days are cool.
He’s on an oil magnate’s estate,
Upon the river Brule,
With ten pound padlock on his gate,
All Lumberjacks he’ll shun,
And to himself he’ll iterate,
“I do not choose to run.”
He’ll angle for the speckled trout,
In streams or lake or pool
That can be found on, or about,
The howling River Brule.
He’ll roam around this oil man’s place
And ply the rod and gun,
And mumble to himself this phrase,
“I do not choose to run.”
One hundred guards around his shack
Are stationed night and day,
To keep Wisconsin badgers back
And keep “moonshine” at bay.
Each of these guards is fully armed,
Each with a loaded gun,
Fearing that Calvin might be harmed,
For he didn’t choose to run.
He’ll feel the bold mosquito’s bite,
He’ll hear the screeching owl,
And in the darkened hours of night,
He’ll hear the fierce wolf’s howl.
Within the leafy forest shade,
Where spider’s webs are spun,
He’ll ponder o’er those words he said,
“I do not choose to run.”
But of all beasts that roam the wood,
The Hodag “takes the cake”,
For when he seeks his daily food,
He makes the pine trees shake.
He is a beast of monstrous size,
He weighs a half a ton.
’Tis plainly seen in his fierce eyes,
He does not choose to run.
He mutters such a fearful roar,
He fairly shakes the ground.
Upon the Lake Superior shore,
These animals abound.
If you should meet one near the shore,
You’ll badly need a gun.
You’ll know by his tremendous roar,
He does not choose to run.
When Calvin roams the northern wood,
On Lake Superior’s shore,
Should meet a Hodag seeking food
And hear his awful roar.
He’ll throw away his fishing rod,
His reel and fancy gun
And whisper to himself, “My God,
I think I choose to run.”
