The Truth About Horace

It is very aggravating     To hear the solemn prating     Of the fossils who are stating     That old Horace was a prude;     When we know that with the ladies     He was always raising Hades,     And with many an escapade his     Best productions are imbued.     There's really not much harm in a     Large number of his carmina,     But these people find alarm in a     Few records of his acts;     So they'd squelch the muse caloric,     And to students sophomoric     They d present as metaphoric     What old Horace meant for facts.     We have always thought 'em lazy;     Now we adjudge 'em crazy!     Why, Horace was a daisy     That was very much alive!     And the wisest of us know him     As his Lydia verses show him,--     Go, read that virile poem,--     It is No. 25.     He was a very owl, sir,     And starting out to prowl, sir,     You bet he made Rome howl, sir,     Until he filled his date;     With a massic-laden ditty     And a classic maiden pretty     He painted up the city,     And Maecenas paid the freight!