Showing posts with label walrus. Show all posts
Showing posts with label walrus. Show all posts

Garth Elzerman: A Profile in Verse


Garth Elzerman is an atavist
Of a quaint and glorious strain.
His comportment always is solid,
His speech ever smooth and urbane.

Yet what makes him the hero of this rhyme
Is neither mien nor chatty panache.
Nay, what makes him so very unique is
His svelte and dishy moustache.

Not a walrus like that borne by Nietzsche,
Nor Hitler's profound little square;
Not even as slender as Dalí's,
Is Garth's lip-bound facial hair.

Yet it is by no means bien pensant,
Not bound by scruples and qualms.
Although it ain't vulgar and showy,
It nonetheless tickles the palms.

"I am a barefaced eccentric;
"I make no apologies for that.
"My moustache is a manifestation,"
Claims Garth in a coffee-room chat.

Even though he has suffered the catcalls
Of fools yoked by modern-day more,
He stays well away from his razor
And so retains a vestige of yore.

"It effuses sophistication;
"It makes me look smart and demure;
"And, to all potential lovers,
"It carries a certain allure."

The voters, too, it attracted
When Garth ran for the SRC,
And, despite all his quirks and his foibles,
He won there a great victory.

That such a singular fellow,
So unusual and quirky a chap,
Could overcome all to be elected
Is worthy of more than a clap.

"To every moustache-owner out there,"
Says Garth with his face all aglow,
"I say, 'You can manage it, too!'"
My, what a model hero.