Five thousand fingers each on it's own spree
All fashioning zingers in hopes we'll agree
Some walking the walk of their talking the talk
Some caulking the stalk with some talking they mock...

And so, Bingley Thorpston, what did they do next?
While you ate your portion, all out of context?
Did they stammer of weapons, with delited disdain
While teaching hard lessons, in vapor trail rains.

And after that, then some, incorrigable fiends
Lassooing petrolium, tortillas and beans
It's the thrill of the chaste, inside acres of steel
Who chew through the taste and find nothing to feel.

And flowers unfettered, grew faster than fear
But the caustic unlettered, were louder that year
And, sounding much bigger were much righter than right
So much so we figure, that day became night.

So here Bingley, there Bingley, pull up a chair Bingley
For what do you care Bingley, put down the snare Bingley
Its all up to you, for the things that you do
Are best when their true... and are beautiful too!

It cannot be easy, you mustn't be late
The causeway is breezy, you don't have a date
But make a good effort, smile, give it your best
Eschew some more comfort, dare to be blessed.

;^) ttr