The Party Next Door

Written by Ogden Nash

Source: Comic Poems

I trust I am not a spoilsport, but there is one thing
I deplore,
And that is a party next door.

I am by nature very fond of everybody, even my
And I think it only right that they should enjoy some
kind of diversion after their labors,

But why don't they get their diversion by going to the
movies of the Little Theater or the Comédie
Français or the Commedia dell'arte?

Why do they always have to be giving a party?

You may think you have heard a noise because you have
heard an artillery barrage or an avalanche or the
subway's horrendous roar,
But you have never really heard anything until you
have heard a party next door.

At a party next door the guests stampede like
elephants in wooden shoes and gallop like
desperate polo players,

And all the women are coloratura sopranos and all the
men are train announcers and hogcallers and
saxophone solo players.

They all have screamingly funny stories to tell each other.
And half of them get at one end of the house and half of
them get at the other end of the yard and then
they yell to each other,

And even if the patrolman looks in from his beat they
do not moderate or stop,
No, they just seduce the cop.

And at last you manage to doze off by the dawn's early
And they wake you up all over again shouting good

And whether it consists of two quiet old ladies
dropping in for a game of bridge or a lot of
revelers getting really sort of out-of-bounds-like,
That's what a party next door always sounds like,

So when you see somebody with a hoarse voice and a
pallid face and eyes bleary and red-rimmed and sore,
It doesn't mean they've been to a party themselves, no,
it probably means that they have experienced a
party next door.