'Billy'

At the risk of seeming silly, I would ask you, 'Where is Billy?' Here's a crisis, here's a fight, And he's missing. Strike a light! Blithering blazes! Here's a mill - Rough house stuff; and where's our Bill? Where's the speech with phrases frilly, Trouncing foemen willy nilly, Waving arms, gesticulations, Posturing and wild gyrations? Briefly, where's the vaudeville That, in olden days was Bill? Where's the harsh voice, rising shrilly To uphold the views of Billy? Far too grave grow politics, Lacking all his circus tricks. Missing! Missing! And, alack! Some folk say he won't come back. Not so I. I see him dreaming In some chamber, planning, scheming, Till, when we are on the verge Of disaster, he'll emerge With the only sane, safe plan, For deliverance of man. Then with one fine, regal, gesture, He will don again the vesture Of authority and right, Crying, 'Come, I see the light!' . . . . Gosh! But wouldn't we look silly If once more we followed Billy?