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.
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