I hate when midday comes around,
And finds our Mom full half-way down.
It makes me fret, I do confess,
About our standard of BS!
If our BS were pure and fine,
"twould penetrate the Mudcat mind
And every Mudcat name or ghost
Would come to read, and, often, post.
But 'tis not so! No, 't is not so!
She drifts adown, and well below
The middle mark of the lower half,
Hoping some soul will read and laugh.
I urge you, MOAB sons and daughters,
To save her when she starts to totter,
And seek to better your alignment,
Your nuance, quip and pure refinement
That we might welcome one and all
Into these hallowed BS halls.


Quibbly N. Deering. Chief Pathologist
Steel Creek Center for the Ambiguously Determined
Steel Creek, Manislaw, Virginia