Once more with beehives

I reprint “Frances Among the Beehives: A Birthday Ode, 1980” to mark the birthday of my dearest friend. She lived, in those days, in Utah, a “black hat” among the “saints”:

Frances Fisher, drinking gin

and tonic as the Saints march in,

Waverly Fisher, whom Random knew when

Has turned twenty-nine. Rand starts over again,

Smites his forehead, pours a cup

Of Folgers hi-test, sobers up

Within another cup or two, or

(Muse invoked) another few,

Conveys from land of sin and surf

His greetings to Moroni’s turf,

Hopes Provo is pleasant, knows Mormons are not

All that bad save en masse

(but it’s en masse you’ve got—

Utah being the homeland of Wog and of Polly,

Salt Lake, Brigham Young and the Osmonds, by golly!).

This doggerel is pretty poor

Imitation Clement Moore

Which is, however, no excuse

Not to play it fast and loose

On Frances Fisher’s natal day.

Sin! Debauch! And by the way

Do not let Sainthood take its toll

On Franny’s hedonistic soul.

In Rome we do as Romans do

But are, in Zion, careful to

Stay decadent. Remain alert!

Party, drink, and don’t convert.

Cheek by jowl with Latter-Dates

Black hats discreetly congregate,

and slipping from the pious’ sight

Go Gentile into that good night.