The cuckoo is a pretty bird, who's two notes we have heard;
One is industry that's stirred, to ripen the fearing herd;
The other is a meddlesome march, into an unknown land
Where sun and wind and heat will parch, an oligarchy planned

The specialest interests we could know, aren't business plans afoot
Where corporation's noses grow, their lying options 'put'
"To war!" allegience... "anger wins"... collusions lead the way,
"With profits sprinkled on our sins, we'll brighten your new day!"

Thus endeavoring to endorse a coup, coup far out on a limb
Their unclear mandate token too, a courtly slimy slim
"There's much too much confusion here", and scarcely any growing
So let us all be of good cheer, and praise the bird that's crowing
ttr