Corruption, in verse

The late Dr. Gordon Edwards was not only an internationally respected scientist and "guru" of Glacier National Park mountain climbers, but he had a deep interest and concern for the social world around him. While he was a combat solider in World War II, he found a poem written by the famous Ogden Nash and through that bit of unusual literature, they became corresponding friends after the war.

Sometime during our years of mountaineering and personal friendship, Gordon gave me a copy of that poem.

Besides its unique treatment of the business corruption subject, the poem is deep-rooted satire, reflecting very real "Big Depression" attitudes, presented as only the pen of Ogden Nash could do it.

When we consider the major underlying causes of the economic crisis in our country which began in 2008 and the following government bailouts of many major financial institutions, Nash's poems still presses sensitive buttons.

"Four Prominent Bastards"

I'm an autocratic figure in these democratic states.

A dandy demonstration of hereditary traits.

My position at the apex of society I owe,

To the qualities my parents, bequeathed me long ago.

My father was a gentleman and musical to boot.

He used to play piano in a house of ill repute.

Now the madam was a lady - a credit to her cult,

She liked my daddy's playing, and I was the result.

So my father and my mother are the ones I have to thank,

That I'm the Chairman of the Board of the county Nat'l Bank.

In a cozy little farmhouse, in a sunny little dell,

A dear old-fashioned farmer and his daughter used to dwell.

She was pretty, she was charming, she was tender, she was mild,

Her sympathy was such that she was frequently with child.

The year her hospitality attained a record high.

She became the happy mother of a baby which was I.

Whenever she was gloomy, I could always make her grin,

By childishly inquiring who my daddy might have been.

Now the hired man was favored by the gals in mommy's set.

And a traveling man from Scranton, was an even-moneyed bet.

But such were mammy's morals and such was her allure.

That even Roger Bobson wasn't altogether sure.

So I took my mammy's morals and I took my daddy's crust,

And I grew to be the founder of a big investment trust.

In a dusty little chain gang on a sunny southern road,

My late lamented pappy made his permanent abode.

Now some were there for stealing, but daddy's only fault,

Was an overwhelming weakness for criminal assault.

His philosophy was simple: and free from moral tape,

'Seduction is for sissies, but a he man likes his rape.'

I remember daddy's warning that raping is a crime.

Unless you rape the voters a million at a time.

I'm a debit to my country and a credit to my dad,

The most expensive senator, this nation ever had.

I'm an ordinary figure in these democratic states,

An awful demonstration of hereditary traits.

My position at the bottom, of society I owe,

To the qualities my parents, bequeathed me long ago.

My father was a married man, and what's even more,

He was married to my mother, consequently, by and by,

I was rooked by every bastard with plunder in his eye.

I invested; I deposited; I voted every fall,

And if I ever saved a penny, those bastards took it all.

At last I've learned my lesson and I'm on the proper track,

I'm a self-appointed bastard and I'm going to get it back!

G. George Ostrom is a national award-winning columnist for Hungry Horse News. He lives in Kalispell.