Dear Sir:

I must protest most vehemently the loss of manners among our youth and the demise of propriety among our poets!

I am accustomed to going after work to the famous Retch & Heave tavern with friends and many another companionable denizen of that establishment.  As the evening wears on and the liquor starts to take effect, we often break forth into song.  At times like these, our favorite song is that old stand-by, To Anacreon in Heaven.  Truth to tell, one needs to be a little drunk to hit all the notes, or at least, not care if he doesn't.  In any case, what song could better evoke the joys of lechery and drink?  Or, as the oft repeated chorus urges us,

                                      ... to entwine
                                      The myrtle of Venus and Bacchus's vine

Lately, however, gangs of uncouth ruffians have taken to visiting the good old Retch & Heave and singing some ghastly war song to the very tune of To Anacreon in Heaven!  This bloody bit is entitled The Defense of Fort McHenry, and it doesn't fit the tune at all!  Not only that, but it drives sweet dreams of the myrtle of Venus and Bacchus's vine right out of our heads and replaces them with bursting bombs and glaring rockets!  This borders on the sacrilegious!  I blame not only the hooligans who sing about such matters, but more especially the poet who would write such a thing!  Is it not the duty of artists to guide the general public toward loftier concerns, such as good ale and so forth, rather than to pander to their baser nature?

I am your Obedient Servant, etc., etc.,

Josiah Figgins

Dedicated to those who are shocked by any departure from the traditional melody of the Star Spangled Banner, formerly (briefly) The Defense of Fort McHenry, and sung to the tune of To Anacreon in Heaven, a drinking song.