The Sky is clear and the fields filled with louse
"Make Haste" they say, with much leer and flounce
This body revolves 'round the established Yolk
No Mermaids, nor those other inaccurate folk
Exist 'pon the boundaries of our only time
So "make haste" they shall, 'fore we all lose more dime
Old Wagons you say? They've no need for those
Recent Carting shows turn your highs to lows
Make Haste, no need of aviating lizard for thee
Extremities and ticker shall leave thee in glee
Old Jack you say? A fool of no wit
Had he existed, of course, he'd still be a twit
"Make haste, Make haste, Make haste" they all say!
When you've run through the day, you'll get your own pay
That Greenback's a symbol of the only power
From here, until your own final hour...
But I ticker and frown and look all around
"Make Haste?!" what for? you all look so bound.
Greenback's a necessity, I won't argue that shot
But Necessity and Life still certainly cannot
exist within the appropriate elation
with Green Bread causing constant constipation
I appreciate the sky, fields, and old mouse
Who run up the grass with a “beer” and a bounce
who take time and drink to the old folk
who made haste and lost sight of their yolk
I appreciate the chance to live my own life
I shan’t “Make Haste”... nor let it be my Knife.