To Jay
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| A gent from the plains of old Kansas | | | |
Came to love his Quixotes and Panzas, | | | | Now writes articles, books, | | | |
Tenters hearers on hooks; | | | | Says he: «It's the height of my fancies». | | |
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He's a hot-shot who grows ever hotter. | | | |
He's a shaker, a mover, this jotter. | | | | He's a star, a go-getter, | | | |
Rare wine -there's none better- | | | | 'Mong lots of fine scholars he's lotter. | | |
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Who is this fantastic señor, | | | | This hidalgo all persons adore? | | | |
Well, with names in the balance, | | | |
He's the Jay of the Allens. | | | |
May his fame soar and soar evermore! | | |
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| On his birthday let's raise a tall beer, | | | |
Or a wine, or a bottle of cheer! | | | | Let us praise him, our champ, | | | | Make our toasts 'til we're damp, | | | | Then proclaim him our man of the year! | | |
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Written by University of Florida French professor Al Smith, sometime in the 1970s.
