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por Carla Hilário Quevedo, em 24.08.07
Slackers: A Hate Song
by Dorothy Parker

I hate Slackers;
They get on my nerves.

There are the Conscientious Objectors.
They are the real German atrocities.
They go around saying, "War is a terrible thing",
As if it were an original line.
They take the war as a personal affront;
They didn't start it—and that lets them out.
They point out how much harder it is
To stay at home and take care of their consciences
Than to go and have some good, clean fun in a nice, comfortable trench.
They explain that it isn't a matter of mere bravery;
They only wish they had the chance to suffer for their convictions—
I hope to God they get their wish!

Then there are the Socialists;
The Professional Bad Sports.
They don't want anybody to have any fun.
If anybody else has more than two dollars,
They consider it a criminal offense.
They look as if the chambermaid forgot to dust them.
There is something about their political views
That makes them wear soiled decolleté shirts,
And they are too full of the spirit of brotherhood
To ask any fellow creature to cut their hair.
They are always telling their troubles to the New Republic;
And are forever blocking the traffic with parades.
If anyone disagrees with them
They immediately go on strike.
They will prove—with a street corner and a soap box—
That the whole darned war was Morgan's fault—
Boy, page an alienist.

There are the Pacifists;
They have chronic stiff necks
From turning the other cheek,
They say they don't believe in war—
As if it were Santa Claus or the Stork.
They will do anything on earth to have peace
Except go out and win it.
Of course they are the only people
Who disapprove of war;
Everybody else thinks it's perfectly great—
The Allies are only fighting
Because it keeps them out in the open air
They know that if we'd all go around wearing lilies,
And simply refusing to fight,
The Kaiser would take his army and go right back home.
It's all wrong, Pershing, it's all wrong.

And then there are the Men of Affairs;
The ones who are too busy to fight.
Business is too good,
And men aren't needed yet, anyway—
Wait till the Germans come over here.
They tell you it would be just their luck
To waste three or four months in a training camp,
And then have peace declared.
It isn't as if they hadn't dependents;
Their wives' relatives can barely buy tires for the Rolls-Royce.
Of course, they may be called in the draft,
But they know they can easily get themselves exempted,
Because they have every symptom of hay fever—
I wish I were head of the draft board!

I hate Slackers;
They get on my nerves.

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publicado às 17:41