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Earth, muck, clay, loam,
dirt, mud, dust
by whatever name I call it,
it comes up the same.
Breeding ground for larvae;
needed meals for worms;
snack time for children;
hiding spots for germs.
Where killers plant their nasty deeds,
where flowers fight with vicious weeds;
where sunshine never sets its beam,
where things just ain't what they seem.
Now they're playing in the dirt,
the muck, clay, loam, and mud;
under guise of observation,
understanding and instruction.
Yet hear me tell you far and wide,
don't listen to them or their aside,
they're only PLAYING in the dirt,
they're only PLAYING in the mud;
they're only PLAYING in the muck,
the earth, the dust, the loam, the "yuk".
They're only PLAYING, I tell you,
they're just dopey -- dopey, it's true.
And while they play they'll pretend
to observe, conserve, instruct and then:
They'll go home muddy, dirty and tired,
telling their tale of how hard they aspired:
to understand the dirt, the dust,
the earth, the muck, and even the rust.
Stolen from James Montgomery & tweaked a bit....
Sorry James....no I'm not, yes I am, no I'm not, yes I am....no I'm....ahhh fk it all.
~*~
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