Picture the face of your fellows
Too long a bed with no sleep
With [bad word] romantic attachments
All look on their sorrows and weep
They don t get a moment s reflection
There's always a crowd in their eye
Pity the plight of young fellows
Regard all their worries and cry

Their [bad word] young mothers were lazy perhaps
Leaving it up to the school
Where the moral perspective is hazy perhaps
And the climate oppressively cool
Give me some acre of cellos
Pitched at some distant regret
Pity the fate of young fellows
And their anxious attempts to forget