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Let George Do It, If You Can Find Him
Ogden Nash
from A Penny Saved Is Impossible (1981)
The wind comes walloping out of the West,
And the sky is lapis lazuli,
And the hills are bold in red and gold,
And I cannot take it casually.
Oh, cruel day for a man to spend
At counter or desk or forge!
I think I shall stray from duty today,
And turn it over to George.
George! George! Where are you, George?
Clear the air for a call to George!
There is work to be done, dear George,
And fame to be won, dear George!
There are words to write,
And columns to add,
And everyone says
That George is the lad.
Here is a pen and here is a pencil,
Here's a typewriter, here's a stencil,
Here is a list of today's appointments,
And all the flies in all the ointments,
The daily woes that a man endures --
Take them, George, they're yours!
I will arise and roam the fields
Where edible coveys flutter.
I will conquer, methinks, the perilous links
With a true and deadly putter.
I'll forsake the grime of the city street
For valley and hill and gorge;
I will, or I would, or I shall, or should,
But I can't get hold of George!
George! George! Where are you, George?
Come out from under the sofa, George!
I thought you were braver, George!
I'm doing you a favor, George!
You can use my desk,
And sit in my chair,
Snugly away from the nasty air.
Safe from the other fellow's cartridges,
Safe from returning without any partridges,
Safe from treacherous spoons and brassies,
And the flaming shorts of the golfing lassies.
All this, dear George, I am trying to spare you.
George! You softie, where are you?
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