Let your speeches be peppered, my salt-of-Earth man
Let your Temperance be tempered by spots of Too Much
For the length of our days will stretch out like a road
And the scenes of some scenic parts must come from us
We must dare to delight, and to giggle like kids
We must sometimes say "damn" in a wry sort of way
And the hiccups of reason, mistakes of mere months
We will use years ahead to convert into play
They aren't joking, my dear, when they say "oh, tomorrow
we'll laugh about all that has happened today"
But if all they can sprinkle is white--only salt--
If they aren't using pepper--who cares what they say?