Robert William Service
The Biologic Urge
Confound all aberrations which
Make men do foolish things,
Like buying bracelets for a bitch,
Or witless wedding rings.
As if we had not woe enough
Our simple souls to vex,
Without that brand of trouble stuff
We label Sex.
Has science not the means produced
For human propagation,
By artificially induced
Then every man might be a priest,
And every maid a nun . . .
Oh well, as chaste as they at least,--
But nix on fun.
Just think how we would grow in grace
If lust we could exclude;
Then innocence might take its place,
--Well, in a sense it could.
How we would be forever free
From passions that perplex!
What peace on earth if only we
Could outlaw Sex!
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