There once was a man who said: "God
Must think it exceedingly odd
If he finds that this tree
Continues to be
When there's no one about in the Quad."
Dear Sir, your astonishment's odd,
I am always about in the Quad;
And that's why the tree
Will continue to be,
Since observed by Yours faithfully, God.
Kick at the rock, Sam Johnson, break your bones:
But cloudy, cloudy is the stuff of stones.
We milk the cow of the world, and as we do
We whisper in her ear, "You are not true."