Pity the plight of young fellows
Too long abed with no sleep
With their complex romantic attachments
O look on their sorrows and weep
They don’t get a moment’s reflection
There’s always a crowd in their eye
Pity the plight of young fellows
Regard all their worries and cry
Their Christian mothers were lazy, perhaps
Leaving it up to the school,
Where the moral perspective is hazy perhaps
And the climate oppressively cool
Give me one acre of cellos
Pitched at some distant regret
O pity the plight of young fellows
And their anxious attempts to upset
Fanciful glances adorable quirks
All dressed up like nancies and pox doctors’ clerks
Pity the plight of the perilous Turk
And the stiff Macaroni who walks with a jerk
As Johnny Baloney is going to work
O look on their like and lament
Love it or shove it in any event
Their food is primary coloured and sweet
You really can’t blame them for wanting to eat it
They know what they want and they want to repeat it
Cornflakes with everything seems like a treat
They shiver in sleet and they sweat in the heat
O will you not offer your seat
They are desperate, delicate, young and effete
Anticipate major resistance
When curbing their efforts to drink
No one requests their assistance
People expect them to stink
Speedaway footwear silently loud
Car-crash colour schemes creep through the crowd
Every man jack of them carries a cloud
Multi-directional do-rags abound
Meagre frames imperceptibly bowed
Laughter for now is allowed
Simply just simply just could not be cowed
Nine lives – all of them drowned
Will you not will you not take as you found
Would you not could you not keep them around
Everyone owes them a favour
Nobody comes to collect
Pity the plight of young fellows
And their spooky desire for respect
Pity the plight of young fellows
Consider their worries and moan
Embrace them when they seem downhearted
Otherwise leave it alone