Posted by Odey, C O on
Night and day
The candle-light stayed not at bay
Profusely did sweat run
Washing away all forms of fun,
Heaping up piles of debt
That scares even death
Days and days upon days
Perfection is for what he pays
Leaving no stones unturned
That he might be not downcast returned
But all the foils that oil
The soils and toils in the soil
In the whole century's prep
Were to be laid to rest in 'bout an hour's tramp.