How little did my mother think,
When first she diapered me,
That I would grow up as a link
On the Endless MOAB tree!

She never would have fed me milk
Nor warmed me in her bed
If she had thought I would become
A useless MOAB head.

But she is gone and I alone
Am left to find my way
Yet sometimes when the sun goes down
I can hear her sweet voice say:

"Oh stay away from bullshit, boy!
Speak sooth, or hold yer tongue!"
Oh how I wish I'd heeded her
In the days when I was young,

And how I long her face to view
Once more before I go
And in her gentle ears tell
My sorry tale of woe.

I know the things I long to say
If she were only here
Of how I grew to fall astray
Of bullshit, babes and beer,

I'd tell her all I have done wrong
And this I'd also say:
"I'm proud to be a MOAB, Mom!
I never truusted yer judgement much anywaaaay!"




Caldwell Tupperware Holmes
Anti-Temperance Songs of the Open Plain
Boston, 1894