It was back in two thousand four,
I was part of a good platoon.
We were on maneuvers in Mudcat land,
One night by the light of the moon.
Khandu had started a little thread,
And that's how it all begun.
We were knee deep in the Big MOAB,
But the big fool said to move on.

The Tweed said, "Sir, are you sure,
This is the best way back to the Caf'?"
"Tweed, go on; for I am the King
And got jurisdiction over this place
It'll be a little sloppy but just keep slogging.
We'll soon reach a thousand or so."
We were waist deep in the Big MOAB
And the big fool said to push on.

Then Amos said, "With all this BS
No one'll be able to swim."
"Amos, don't be a nervous nellie."
King Khandu said to him.
"All we need is a little determination;
Follow me, I'll lead on."
We were neck deep in the Big MOAB
And the big fool said to push on.

All of a sudden, the moon clouded over,
We heard a gurgling cry.
A few seconds later, King Khandu's crown
Was all that floated by.
Tweed then said, "Push on, brave men,
I'm in charge from now on."
And we never made it out of the Big MOAB
Tho' our King was dead and gone.

We stripped and dived and found his body
Stuck in the old manure heap.
I guess he didn't know that the BS was deeper
Than the place he'd once before been.
Lots more had joined the Big MOAB
Since Khandu had been where he'd been.
And we've never escaped from the Big MOAB
And like damn fools we still push on.

          -- Jethro N. Homer, Poems of the MOAB
             (New York and Dublin: Mom's House, 1589)