We can go for a walk where it's quiet and dry
and talk about precious things
but the rain that flattens my hair
these are the things that kill me
Passed the pub that saps your body
and the church who'll snatch your money
the Queen is dead, boys
and it's so lonely on a limb
(apologies to The Smiths, ca. 1986)
Grats to all on a successful thwacking of Da Queen of Da Ants, as Dim might say.
