Read Time:41 Second
Let him wear it,
Who the cap shall fit;
For none shall dance the tap
That lost a foot to the trap.
If our river is full,
Shall the lord of the pool
Stand by and watch
While another bears the torch?
Shall we wash with salt
And put soap in malt?
Or shave the beards with shares
As scissors clip the flower’s ears?
On the best head let us slap
The ever-contended cap
And let him dance the tune
That bears the dancing rune!
Sugar the malt, salten the soup,
Jail ye every thought of coup.
Let scissors shape our beards
While flowers, with shares are cared.
When the future is carved by the hands of fools, tomorrow is murdered.
