26.07.2026 @ 20:46:08

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/ Terence, this is stupid stuff: You eat \
| your victuals fast enough; There can't |
| be much amiss, 'tis clear, To see the  |
| rate you drink your beer. But oh, good |
| Lord, the verse you make, It gives a   |
| chap the belly-ache. The cow, the old  |
| cow, she is dead; It sleeps well the   |
| horned head: We poor lads, 'tis our    |
| turn now To hear such tunes as killed  |
| the cow. Pretty friendship 'tis to     |
| rhyme Your friends to death before     |
| their time. Moping, melancholy mad:    |
| Come, pipe a tune to dance to, lad. -- |
\ A. E. Housman                          /
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         \  (oo)\_______
            (__)\       )\/\
                ||----w |
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