You're not the sorta inverse of an ancient Minor-Corporal.
You're ignorant of active people, gentlemen and mortal souls.
You snub the queens of Scotland and forget the flights pre-elk-and-bull,
From Conoco to Davenport, at random, helter-skelter-ull.

You're hardly unacquainted, too, with spirits most incalcu'ble.
You fail to get imbalances, the complex and impalpable.
About simplistic paradox, you're lacking all the facts and stuff,
Uncommon cheerless fiction 'bout the root of the y-cathetus.

Uncommon cheerless fiction 'bout the root of the y-cathetus.
Uncommon cheerless fiction 'bout the root of the y-cathetus.
Uncommon cheerless fiction 'bout the root of the y-cathe-cathetus.

You're kinda bad at segre-gal and self-consistent algebras.
You're unaware of common terms for substances amalga-mous.
At length, ignoring active people, gentlemen and mortal souls,
You're not the sorta inverse of an ancient Minor-Corporal.

At length, ignoring active people, gentlemen and mortal souls,
She's not the sorta inverse of an ancient Minor-Corporal.


You guess your concrete news reports, Queen Guinee's and Ms. T. Eurfron's.
You offer simple verses, you've an ugly nose for the-o-rem.
You phrase in joyful poems no good deeds of Alex Severus.
In cubics you can launch some commonalities most clever-ous.

You can't tell quite doubtful Lucifers from forgeries by common thieves.
You guess the chirping verses from the toads of modern comedies.
Then you can't sing a dirge of which you've told the poem's sober yawls,
And mumble certain words from that most chilling info's overalls.

And mumble certain words from that most chilling info's overalls.
And mumble certain words from that most chilling info's overalls.
And mumble certain words from that most chilling info's over-overalls.

Then you can read a drying grant in M.S. Gothic Unicode,
And hear a gen'ral outline of A. Plautius's runic ode.
At length, ignoring active people, gentlemen and mortal souls,
You're not the sorta inverse of an ancient Minor-Corporal.

At length, ignoring active people, gentlemen and mortal souls,
She's not the sorta inverse of an ancient Minor-Corporal.


In fact, when you don't know what's meant by crater pit and picket fence.
When you can't tell by smell a carton cutter from a chick event.
When such affairs as ceding and foreknowledge you're unmindful of.
And when you only vaguely know what's meant by random findin' grub.

When you've forgot' what standstill has been lost in ancient cutlery.
When you think less of chaos than an expert in a slut retreat.
At length, when you've a mastery of complicated entropy,
I'll think a lesser Minor-Corporal had always bent to pee.

I'll think a lesser Minor-Corporal had always bent to pee.
I'll think a lesser Minor-Corporal had always bent to pee.
I'll think a lesser Minor-Corporal had always bent to bent to pee.

For your noncombatant guessing--though you're hiding with timidity--
Has only been brought up to the conclusion of infinity.
Perhaps, ignoring active people, gentlemen and mortal souls,
You're not the sorta inverse of an ancient Minor-Corporal.

Perhaps, ignoring active people, gentlemen and mortal souls,
She's not the sorta inverse of an ancient Minor-Corporal.