Back in the dear old thirties' days
When politics was passion
A harmless left-wing bard was I
And so I grew in fashion：
Although I never really joined
The Party of the Masses
I was most awfully chummy with
The Proletarian classes.
This is the course I'll always steer
Until the stars grow dim， sir——
That howsoever taste may veer
I'll be in the swim， sir.
But as the tide of war swept on
I turned Apocalyptic：
With symbol， myth and archetype
My verse grew crammed and cryptic：
With New Romantic zeal I swore
That Auden was a fake， sir，
And found the mind of Nicky Moore
More int'resting than Blake， sir.
White Horsemen down New Roads had run
But taste required improvement：
I turned to greet the rising sun
And so I joined the Movement！
Glittering and ambiguous
In villanelles I sported：
With Dr. Leavis I concurred，
And when he sneezed I snorted.
But seeing that even John Wax might wane
I left that one-way street， sir；
I modified my style again，
And now I am a Beat， sir：
So very beat， my soul is beat
Into a formless jelly：
I set my verses now to jazz
And read them on the telly.
Perpetual non-conformist I——
And that's the way I'm staying——
The angriest young man alive
（Although my hair is greying）
And in my rage I'll not relent——
No， not one single minute——
Against the base Establishment
（Until， of course， I'm in it）。
This is the course I'll always steer
Until the stars grow dim， sir——
That howsoever taste may veer
I'll be in the swim， sir.