We know the Rockets upward whizz; We know the Boom before the Bust. We know the whistling Wail which is The Stick returning to the Dust. We know how much to take on trust Of any promised Paradise. We know the Pie, likewise the Crust. We know the Bonfire on the Ice. We know the Mountain and the Mouse. We know Great Cry and Little Wool. We know the purseless Ears of Sows. We know the Frog that aped the Bull. We know, whatever Trick we pull, (Ourselves have gambled once or twice) A Bobtailed Flush is not a Full. We know the Bonfire on the Ice. We know that Ones and Ones make Twos, Till Demos votes them Three or Nought. We know the Fenris Wolf is loose. We know what Fight has not been fought. We know the Father to the Thought Which argues Babe and Cockatrice Would play together, were they taught. We know that Bonfire on the Ice. We know that Thriving comes by Thrift. We know the Key must keep the Door. We know his Boot-straps cannot lift The frightened Waster off the Floor. We know these things, and we deplore That not by any Artifice Can they be altered. Furthermore We know the Bonfires on the Ice!
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