Toads
Why should I let the toad work
Spuat on my lift?
Can't I use my wit as a pitchfork?
And, drive the brute off?
Six days of the week it soils
With its sickening poison
Just for paying a few bills!
That's out of proportion
Lots of folk live on their wits
Lecturers,lispers,
Losels, loblolly-men, louts
They don't end as paupers
Lots of folk live up lanes
With fires in a buckets
Eat widfalls and tinned sardines
They seem to like it
Their nippers have got bare feet
their upspeakable wives
Are skinny as whippets and yet..
No one actually starves
Ah, were Icourageous enough
To shout Stuff your pension!
But, I know, all too well, that's the stuff
That dreams are made on...
For something sufficiently toad-like
Squats in me, too
Its hunkers are heavy as hard luck
And, cold as snow
And, will never allow me to blarney
My way to getting
The fame and the girls and the money
All at one sitting
I don't say, one bodies the other
One's spiritual truth
But, I do say it's hard to lose either,
When you have both.
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