Miniver Cheevy, Jr.
DF Parry

Miniver Cheevy, Jr., child
Of Robinson's renowned creation,
Also lamented and reviled
His generation.

Miniver similarly spurned
The present that so irked his pater,
But that langsyne for which he yearned
Came somewhat later.

Miniver wished he were alive
When dividends came due each quarter,
When Goldman Sachs was 205,
And skirts were shorter.

Miniver gave no hoot in hell
For Camelot or Troy's proud pillage;
He would have much preferred to dwell
In Greenwich Village.

Miniver cherished fond regrets
For days when benefits were boundless;
When radios were crystal sets,
And films were soundless.

Miniver missed the iron grills,
The whispered word, the swift admission,
The bath-tub gin, and other thrills
Of Prohibition.

Miniver longed, as all men long,
To turn back time (his eyes would moisten),
To dance the Charleston, play mah jong,
And smuggle Joyce in.

Miniver Cheevy, Jr., swore,
Drank till his health was quite imperiled;
Miniver sighed, and read some more
F. Scott Fitzgerald.

David Fisher Parry