Oyez, embrace your primal fears
And leave the season of the tears
And come to know the wise old seers
Who know it’s time to mend our gears

Just like a caravan that veers
From left to right and then careers
Into the muddy, flimsy weirs
It is the fool who finally hears

Just leave behind your poison beers
And stay alert my lovely dears
And use your eyes, and nose, and ears
Collect what’s due and in arrears

Before it all just disappears

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