There was an old librarian
Of spirit all contrarian
Whose fondest pleasure was to split
All points of view by opposites.

This bookish soul, with verve electric
Did so pursue the dialectic
That all his friends, and his poor Missus
Were swamped with his antitheses!

And while he dusted books and files
He contemplated, with a smile,
(Arranging tomes upon a shelf)
Learning to contradict himself!!

But when he'd try he'd find confusion,
And could not divide his inner fusion
And though he roared with temper splenic,
It only made him schizophrenic.

He'd argue pro, then argue con
He'd move things off and put them on
But somehow found he never could
Believe the bad while preaching good.

And nor, which he found just as sad,
Believe the good while preaching bad!
And sorely though his ego pricked
He could his Self not contradict!!

The struggle finally drove him barmy
And he ran off and jined the Army
Where arguments, both small and big,
Led him at last into the brig.

And there he sat, at even tide,
Argued up points, and took up sides,
But though he leaped and cursed and roared
He with himself stayed in concord.

Alloyisius Tabernacle Quire
Ballads from Pocatello
Legion Press, 1938