I Met a Snob
I met a snob in the campus,
Full of conceit, highly bumptious.
His visage was big but vision small,
Being short-sighted, he couldn’t see all.
He spoke much in borrowed accents,
Half English and half American.
Indianism in him he couldn’t bear,
So foreign styles he picked with care.
His native lips hummed alien tune,
Tied to earth, he kissed the moon.
His title was big, his knowledge affected,
A few toadies he had collected.
Since he happened to be in the chair,
He gulped down all and refused to share.
Creative work he couldn’t like,
His only job was to criticise.
Imperfect, but expected perfection,
He couldn’t stitch, so did dissection.
Research he would seldom encourage,
He loved his vision to remain blurred.
Scholars number must not increase,
Lest his importance should decrease.
Male scholars he did not like,
For fair ones he had broad smile.
He was all between his boots and hat,
Soul he couldn’t feel, nor he had,
Humanism he had read in literature,
His heart lacked pity and he, stature.
He couldn’t help, nor could he sympathise,
But frowned well and gave cold advice.
Courtesy was below his chair,
Let others grumble and despair.
Being the boss he was considered wise,
Looked Solomon’s prodigy but fool in disguise.
Inspire he could none, so snubbed all,
Highbrow he was, though lowly-born.
Important as he was, he needn’t be nice,
Fools’ King, lived in a fool’s paradise.