Whatever Does It Mean

Stirring with they’re spoons wishing; Perhaps anticipation has them twitching And bad bears are they’re always itching; For those salmon eggs they’re fishing. Have they showed a ticket going nowhere? And are sublime of thought and often without care; And have you ever heard them swear That it wasn’t them they wouldn’t dare And when a writer pens a sonnet; And leaves it there for comment; Do the ladies all wear bonnets? And men’s lapels do they have flowers on it And the jokester as he chuckles; At those whose thumbs they’ve suckled Big laughter bangs its knuckles And the fat men they lose their buckles But there is no need to worry; And you needn’t bother to get bogged; Just simply grab a tumbler; And fill it full with grog.