When I Was In An Alehouse That

When I was in an alehouse that

Was south of 8th Street long ago

Over a glass I had a chat

With someone who I used to know.

What we were arguing about

Was morals (were they relative 

Or absolute?) and it fell out

Each one held the alternative.

He holding, anything would go,

I saying that it wasn’t true

But yes! is yes! and no! is no!

To what nobody ought to do.

He said it all depends on place

And time and only this and that—

No white or black but only grays

Depending on how it’s looked at.

And so we went around and round

Without a single spot where we

Could find us any common ground,

Agreeing just to disagree;

He said, it all depended on

The end determining the means

As black and white to gray were gone

For every shade he found between…

“Without there being white and black

There is no gray at all” said I

And then for answer or the lack

Of one he gave this flip reply—

“Man, everything is everything,”

And that was all he had to say

For the conclusion he would bring

Was nothing matters anyway.