August's Little Reminder
Here's to the shy little critic Who sits on their own at the back Who has no one to laugh with or talk to So they sharpen their knives to attack
Averse to all participation Unelected spokesperson for the throng They're the last to divulge and contribute But the first to cry 'You're doing it wrong!'
Myopic self-serving appraisals The judge and the jury combined Indulging in wanton destruction And a cowardly need to malign
So here's to the shy little critic The writer of wrongs on the hunt I wish them a hash light and mirror The morally bankrupt sad cunt.