Verse One

A short, short time ago,
I can still remember how I-rony used to make me smile.
And I knew that with a chance or half,
that I could make some people laugh,
and maybe I could spew a little bile.
but nine-eleven made me shiver,
with every punchline I'd deliver.
Terror on our door-step,
propriety to o'erstep.
So, Salon and The Onion cried,
when Graydon Carter late of Spy,
told Inside that the end was nigh,
the day, I-ron-y died. So...

Chorus One

Bye, bye Mr. Conan O'Bri',
Goodbye Chevy, Eugene Levy, hi Bill Nye Science Guy,
And them talk show boys say things that saccarify,
swearin' that now they will mollify,
that now they will all mollify.

Verse Two

Frogs and Birds and Wasps and bees,
all the works by Aristophanes,
Lysistrata you found too banal,
and would I be supercilious,
by mentioning Lucilius,
or would you think I was just Juvenal?
Horace knows that you will not read him,
so he's pondering a pseudonym;
no one left to amuse,
Those Epicurean Blues.
I was a lonely Bronze-Age, fresh coed,
with distaste for circuses and bread,
but cynicism quickly fled,
the day, I-ron-y, died.
I started singin...

Chorus Three

Fie, Fie, who is this bin Laden guy?
Just a heavy with a bevy that we taught how to fly.
And Crusader George polls an Orwellian high,
singing praises of the F.B. and I,
praises of the F.B. and I.

Verse Four

two millenia through man's travails,
Chaucer's Canterbury Tales.
Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.
Inferno bound ememies of Dante's
and Don Quixote's ob-Cervantes,
Is it really Gulliver we fear?
A proposal modest posed by Swift,
a Pope and Dryden shared the gift.
Moliere penned his Tartuffe.
had Candide grown aloof?
So Voltaire cried "Ecrasez l'imfame"
Then the age of Johnson came,
Does James Boswell bear the blame?
the day, I-ron-y, died.
Et nous chantions...

Chorus Four

Bye, Bye to the acerbic reply.
Hearts are heavy, so we'll levy an ion-for-an-eye.
And an acid thought will meet far more alkali,
Singing, come let us e-mulsify.
Come let us e-mulsify.

Verse Five

Louis Philippe, a vainglorious creep,
thought Caricature took a shot too cheap,
Daumier got six months in the pen.
He helped Leech and Keene to spike the Punch,
as Lemon captained Tenniel's bunch.
We'll not see their Nast-y like again.
Meanwhile plucky-Huck on a raft with Jim,
took the Mississipi south with him;
just innocents abroad,
oh, but the dauphine was a fraud.
And then as Stormfield sailed in to his berth,
no dark, sardonic quips or mirth,
we all read Letters from the Earth,
the day, I-ron-y, died.
We started wailing...

Chorus Five

Lies, lies dissembling Puck's eulogize.
Exagger-ated were the rumors of my recent demise.
Stranded in their cars, congressmen can-ni-ba-lize.
They sang, in nom-i-natin' my friend I rise,
In nom-i-natin' my friend I rise.

Verse Six

I watched a guy who made up news.
It seemed that he had lost his muse,
but he said what he had to say.
Then the network ran a great encore,
of an SNL from weeks before,
just to show that humor doesn't play.
And on the web no one daydreamed,
no emails spammed, no cartoons streamed.
Honolulu to Hoboken,
not a single joke was spoken.
And those that I admire most,
cartoonist, Twain, and late night host,
absent from screens from coast to coast.
The day, I-ron-y, died,
and they were singin...

Chorus Six

Bye, Bye to a wit that is wry
Estelle Getty, please get ready, throw a custard cream pie.
Ari Fliescher's warns you to watch just what you imply,
that you must watch what you imply!