by Dan Campion

It’s fifty years since billy clubs
Cracked random back and head:
Throughout the land, steins raise in pubs
That no one fell down dead.

A half a century since Da Mare
Cursed Ribicoff! The Hump,
Predictably, got drubbed. From there,
The road led straight to Trump.

You think I’m daft, it’s just cold draft
That says the world’s that shallow?
Drink up, friends. Feel the tear gas waft
From Michigan and Balbo.