Was it a Huzzah, er words o' courage tha' yer wanted, or even now, seek?
Isn' it the strawman seems ter hava problem, keepin' his hat on?
Ah, doan imagine it'll go easier, once all'a problems are gone.
Aye! Ai-ai-ai, is our world up for feeble tricks, o' feeble minds a' feeble pricks?
Weaker still, an' all puffed up, yet strainin' all ter swing bigger sticks.
All the while, waitin' fer the fallow, the long-sufferin' Earth
gets no needed Jubilee, owin' ta the commonsense dearth.
Takin' a moment 'er two outta yer rare an' troubled sleep,
Yer powerful leaders ought ter stop th' doin's an' weep.
Then put them feet up an' relax, for th' work's already done;
The talkin', an' showin' a' respect fer th' livin', are ideas all on th' run."
Yet another bit of obscure Auld Bollocks doggerel, the exact meaning of this rustic quatrain is unknown. Unfortunately, the A.B. weren't too keen on selling second-hand oats. Whether out of sheer laziness or other motivation, the feeling seems to have been that further explanation only added needless confusion, and was thus a waste of time.