The other day 8 hours passed, I manned my post, upright as mast.
I tasked the till, no questions asked.
Their manners crass.
The apes. The ass.
"Hold fast! Avast...shell out some cash, to whip your sticks at balls on grass."
My coffers profit at a loss; hubris, the stipend offered me.
Tumid, impatient albatross. Equipped with quip spoke haughtily...
(They spoke) "The rich keep getting richer, and the poor keep making babies,"
They laugh and jeer among their peer; A q-tip stabbing in my ear.
It bites and tears rapaciously; these irksome jerks, they stay me.
Too late, my thoughts will not abate:
A drop of urine in their beer, squeezed from the bladder of a deer, beyond the twilight of its year...
and keying their Mercedes...
...those thoughts a'fraught, shot through my mind
Alas, my manners more refined, my smile a distant daisy
...of true disdain their eyes made blind. A fatted calf & serpentine; they are 'Courtesy made lazy'.
Go swing your sticks, and chase your balls, purse your lips, and gnash your teeth
But when you heed the beckoned call from reaper's drawl, toward deep beneath
Atop the dirt, that you've become; afore the dusk, beyond the dawn
My next-of-kin will whisk thereto, when nature calls, and piss upon.
No tips will you have offered me, so tip I offer you...
You men so brash, so steeped in self, so rich, so deep; a vacant Well
Beware such emptiness of heart, for more piss shall it fill. |
| Jim Henson's Statler and Waldorf |
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