,All you who dream of royal rule,
We offer here the perfect tool,
To take the throne, by which we're lead!
Of perfect form, and perfect head!
Of style well-famed, and sweetly named
And in the rhythm method trained!
A leader who will steer you true
Do all the things a King should do,
And stand a Leader, no apprentice
Erect and strong, to represent us!
Of passion full, of drive inspiring
Yet when unwanted, all retiring!
Descendant of the Spiegel line,
Well honored since the dawn of Time,
And ever ready to renew
The forebear's blood and marrow blue!
Prepared to conquer, and to seek
Where never tread mere folkies meek!
To thrust and parry with the best,
To drive us in untiring quest
To strive, and dive,  among the best!
So folkies raise him to the throne
And be ye ruled by this alone,
Who rises to each hard occasion,
Fit to lead our Mudcat Nation!
Who shall it be? Who fits this mold?
Should Max, then, be our leader bold?
No! Let us not by Max be led --
For he is but a slug-a-bed!
Let's vote for Max's tool, instead!
His own, eternal peckerhead!
Let cheers, acclaim, hosannahs sing --
We will be ruled by Max's Thing!!


Happy Birthday, Max!!

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