Notional Nimrod is steering
          On through the current of trouble.
See how the Demon is leering,
          Casting the spell on his double.
          Holding his grip on the bubble.

Nimrod could never help stealing,
          Everything good within sight.
E'en while approaching that speeling,
          Encroaching, unfeeling, dread sprite,
          Who governs the darkening night.

Nimrod was once a pickpocket,
          Up in fair Ossining's book.
When near a till he would knock it,
          Slip out the money, sly Hook.
          Really—one fine, clever Crook.

Nimrod felt sure of his salary,
          Treated the bunch at the bar.
First in the famous Rogues' gallery,
          Who cares? He drives his own car.

Notional Nimrod is drunk,
          Nimrod is caught in the bracket.
Fate says, "Oh, nixie all junk!
          Here is your jacket, quick pack it.
          Put on the style, clip the racket."

Notional Nimrod once speared
          Some hen, she'd a voice like a rooster,
Cut off her head, now 'tis feared
          The bird cannot crow as she uster.
          It really is useless to boost her.

Notional Nimrod—his days
          Hurry along to a close.
Oh dread accounting—his stays
          Bursting—we pass—squirt the hose.
          Wash up and squash up his nose.

Oh for one nice honest sinner
          Carrying squarely the load,
Gallant Bank breaker, some winner,
          One dandy Knight of the Road
Ready to jump the high hurdle
Up into fame. Crack the girdle.

Nimrod the foxy eel stealer,
          Dealer in bum willow ware.
Nimrod the coward and squealer,
          Guy who would not take a dare,
          Making his coconut flare
          Bouncing about in the air,
          Handsfull of hair he doth tear,
          Shaking the bright golden stair.

Nimrod the man with a dirk
          Bellows and kicks like a mare,
Nimrod all quirk with a smirk,
          Gives up his soul to despair,
          Climbs down the stair, crazy loon,
          Dancing the Devil's own tune.

Nimrod the man with a notion,
          Got down the bottle of pulp,
Shaking up well the vile potion,
          Drinking it down with one gulp.

Soon the great Nimrod felt groggy—
          Leaping about on one knee—
See the big mind fluster foggy,
          All the grey matter at sea.

Nimrod is reeling all cloggy,
          Crazy as crazy can be.
Soon his friends bring eggie noggie,
          Making one last final plea,
Trying to turn back his fate,
Useless! Alas 'tis too late.

All the egg nog in the punch bowl
          Can't oil the poor Buffer slick.
All the rare munch in the crunch roll
          Never can make Nimrod kick
          Changing the dead to the quick.

My! what a pretty gazelle
          Leaping about in the churchyard.
Wandering Demons now spell
          Dismal award in the birch guard.

There underneath the grey tombstone,
          Just about three feet or so,
Nimrod is safe in the Doom Zone,
          Fighting the man with a hoe.

Poor little Notional Nimrod
          Withering crisp like old leather
Half starving, carving green slim rod,
          Crushed shaky weed in bad weather.

Down in the caves of the ocean
          Bones of the dead spread about.
Hear that harsh frightful commotion,
          While Father Neptune doth shout,
Ordering mermaids to dance,
Nixie two legs can they prance?
          They never heard of poor Nimrod
          Safe in his own narrow trim pod.

EPITAPH

Oh! Fairy soap, oh! Fairy soap,
You cannot hope the least to cope
With sin, or polish off the stain
Nor bring relief to any pain.

                   Under the sod
          Notional Rod
                   Nimrod poor clod
                   In his green pod—
          Say—does he fry?
          I don't know, why,
                   Do You?

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