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

Understand...

I shan’t “Make Haste”... nor let it be my Knife.