Do not go mental into that good night,
Old people should burn and crave a dose of Bengay;
Rage, rage against the flying of a kite.
Though wise guys in the pen mope day and night
Because they have no fork and no wife they
Do not go mental into that good night.
Ballet men at last wave good-bye crying how tight
Their pantyhose when they pranced like a green fay!
Rage, rage against the flying of a catamite.
Real men who caught the flu and died in flight,
And learn, too late, the Dow-Jones doubled today,
Do not go blubber into that good night.
Grave Republicans, near death, who stand and fight
Blind mice gazing at ICBMs pointed this way,
Rage, rage against the spying of a Trotskyite.
And you, my Captain, there on the sad height,
Curse, but pay me first, before the devil take you away.
Do not go gentle into that food fight.
Rage, rage against the flying of egg white.