SING A SONG O’ SIXPENCE

Sing a Song of Service,
The Civil one, I mean,
Men and women working
In the government machine.
If you think it’s easy,
Come and have a try;
But I for one may tell you
That it really isn’t pie.
When the House is open,
And members start to spout,
The Service starts a-digging facts
To help the members out.
With musty books and papers,
We struggle all the day,
Making figures fit the facts,
Or around the other way.
The Party saves the country,
The Churches save the soul,
The Service saves the Minister
From getting in the hole;
Each one saving something
In their little way,
And for all this saving
The Country has to Pay.

And to him that taketh away thy goods, see that thou getteth his note—if he hath a good endorser.

Energy is thy ammunition; waste it not in folly; store it in thyself until thou findest a fit object on which to exert it. The Game is not like a horse-race wherein judges declare the weight a racer shall carry.