30 Apr 05 - 09:41 AM (#1474950)
Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos

The MOABite ran like a wolf to the fold
And their numbers were drooling and laughing, and old
In the pale purple dawn, at the rise of the hill
They stood in array, and they laughed soft and shrill.
Their horses cavorted, their trumpets were gold
And they sang out "BS"! in the damp and the cold.

Then each one to his stirrups, to each his épée
And they swung to their saddles, and galloped toward day,
With the screams of the dying rattling over the plain
The MOABites struck, struck again, struck again.
That was long long ago, as the elders recall,
Who were there and who saw it, and remember it all.

It was cognitive madness, a mind's paroxysm
Not one gal was sure what was hers, or was his'n.
On that plain stands today just a cold granite marker,
To remember the day when the MOAB went starker
In cool quiet letters, the stone doth profess:
"On this hill, at one time, there was first-class BS."

Merriwether Longjaw Stooling
Songs of the MOAB
Brown and Ridickledockle, New York, 1947