I burp, hiccup at the same time Hiccup of tea, plenty of milk and honey Load it up with sugar and spice All things fruity Brandy and whisky to give it some bite Take flight my evarvescent peach of toil And trouble Hit the deck Postulate a new theory of relativity of Arnolds golf shot Verses the obnoxious old tart of an aged crow Squawking in my fridge Please I ask you Look around my children Wake up to the truth There is nothing And no one.