Prehistoric Smith, Quaternary Epoch, Post-Pliocene Period

A man sat on a rock and sought         Refreshment from his thumb;     A dinotherium wandered by         And scared him some.     His name was Smith. The kind of rock         He sat upon was shale.     One feature quite distinguished him,         He had a tail.     The danger past, he fell into         A revery austere;     While with his tail he whisked a fly         From off his ear.     "Mankind deteriorates," he said,         "Grows weak and incomplete;     And each new generation seems         Yet more effete.     "Nature abhors imperfect work,         And on it lays her ban;     And all creation must despise         A tailless man.     "But fashion's dictates rule supreme,         Ignoring common sense;     And fashion says, to dock your tail         Is just immense.     "And children now come in the world         With half a tail or less;     Too stumpy to convey a thought,         And meaningless.     "It kills expression. How can one         Set forth, in words that drag,     The best emotions of the soul,         Without a wag?"     Sadly he mused upon the world,         Its follies and its woes;     Then wiped the moisture from his eyes,         And blew his nose.     But clothed in earrings, Mrs. Smith         Came wandering down the dale;     And, smiling, Mr. Smith arose,         And wagged his tail.