By Dan Bickert
Wherefore do you call on me thusly
Haughty you are, puerile, and souf!
With this lyric I chide you going forward through the annals of time!
Reverend and stout might I have been at times
I could still eclipse you in a wink but for to lose sight of you so long
Blinded eyes yours but not mine
Many capacities have I compared to you
And for me less savoir-faire, nothing else is
Others do but play compared to this reproach
You are half as joyous as I
You ask for ease and behold not upon your duties
My own center is my sphere
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to a so-called friend of mine