Riddonkulous

The President was Silent Cal, Not long ago, a century, Who wasted not and wanted not, a puritan from birth was he. Thus when his son asked for me, the father told him to make do. The son paid him a visit soon, and rubbed his toe against his shoe In a tennis game, his blister burst, and the infection slew. The father in depression slid, and soon so did the whole country. Was it, in part, for want of me?