Processional

The chairman of the board
Excuse me, Sir, your zeppelin's on fire
Carefully swung the majestic cigar which he kept moored
To the front of his head like a funambulist's pole
Through a tight forty-five degree arc between finger and thumb
Revealing a small wet puckered hole
Convulsing like a sea anemone's stomach
"Let us proceed" he said

The chairman of the board full steamed ahead
Subordinate directors fell in behind
Each one arrayed in tall black hat
Black coat, striped pants
Spats and suspenders
Not to mention the mandatory cigar
Forming a sable colonnade

Proceeded
Oblivious to the small hysterias
Of private secretaries and overseers
Scuttling in their wake

Proceeded
Billowing smoke ascending
From the stout Havannas
Which I forgot to mention
As I mentioned earlier
Black hat funnels held erect

Proceeded
August as an Edwardian Cunarder
Escorted up the Hudson
To inspect the entire works