When I read Jizzbeg's word twisting, writhing and evasion about his bountiful optimism over recent weeks, now dashed against the ragged jagged rocks of reality, the words of Marcus Mumford came rushing to my mind - with a slight adjustment.
beagle for yourself, my man,
You'll never be what is in your heart
beagle little lion man,
You're not as brave as you were at the start
Rate yourself and rake yourself,
Take all the courage you have left
Wasted on fixing all the problems that you made in your own head
But it was all your fault not mine
And it was your guff on the line
You really fuc'ked it up this time
Didn't you, my dear?
Didn't you, my dear?
Tremble for yourself, my man,
You know that you have seen this all before
Tremble little lion man,
You'll never settle any of your scores
Your grace is wasted in your face,
Your boldness stands alone among the wreck
Now learn from your betters or else spend your days biting your own neck
But it was all your fault not mine
And it was your guff on the line
You really fuc'ked it up this time
Didn't you, my dear?