Gutless brutes may go without impedance
To futile profit. So, off you trot, we do
not need your twisted fraud.
Today is St. Lubbock’s. You who idle and do
fuck all, will smiles in their dreams and sleep deep
enjoy and praise the name of Lubbock.
Should active fools disturb your sweet slumber,
show them your scars and mumble:
‘Lummock Lubbock will never pass without
us heroes steadfast on our arses!
We doss, we gladly doss, we idle buggers.
And they that doss too, shall be my Goodfellows;
whether good or bad. Today will ease their conscience.
And those Joxers who must work will wish
they were not. And shrink when they think on the
futility of all endeavour.