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Why don't all we with bleeding hearts,
Start up a club of grunts and farts,
And grumble the rest of our lives away,
Debasing all sundry while we may.
We could call our group snort and shout,
And invite those in who don't go out,
And provide incentive for our troops,
Who could watch us do the hoop-dah-loops,
So that they'd know what they'll become,
When the fighting and their war is done.
We could sit and tell them many a tale,
And teach them how to moan and wail,
Or yet perhaps they might take note,
And slit my stupid bloody throat.
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