Ne zelim pricati o smislu

 
TERENCE, THIS IS STUPID STUFF:
YOU EAT YOUR VICTUALS FAST ENOUGH;
THERE CAN'T BE MUCH AMISS, 'TIS CLEAR
TO SEE THE RATE YOU DRINK YOUR BEER.
BUT OH, GOOD LORD, THE VERSE YOU MAKE,
IT GIVES A CHAP THE BELLY-ACHE.
THE COW, THE OLD COW, SHE IS DEAD;
IT SLEEPS WELL, THE HORNED HEAD:
WE POOR LADS, 'TIS OUR TURN NOW
TO HEAR SUCH TUNES AS KILLED THE COW.
PRETTY FRIENDSHIP 'TIS TO RHYME
YOUR FRIENDS TO DEATH BEFORE THEIR TIME.
MOPING, MELANCHOLY MAD:
COME PIPE A TUNE TO DANCE TO, LAD.
-- A. E. HOUSMAN