Gracious me. Apparently the quality of the BS has become strained and no loner .like the gentle dew from a Bovine Heaven Alas and alack, the it should come to this! Where is the Weiseley, the Still Water Sage, aall the gnus that fit we print? Ou sont les Amos d'antan? I cannot, alone, fill the gap. Perhaps if I break into song:

Where or where can the Moabite be
Oh where oh where can they be?
With their hair some gone and with some cut long
Oh where, oh where can they be?

Last night as I lay on the prairie
Awatchin' the glitterin' stars
I thought of the good things we treasure
Like not being locked behind bars.

Good friends who'd swing for you in an instant
For greater love no man hath
To climb up there on the gallows
Guiltless but needing a bath.

Be it Amos or gnu or Stilly
They'd all give their lives to save me
For Mom has a child who's a favorite
And theat favorite child is me.