When all night long, a chap remains
On sentry-go, to chase monotony
He exercises of his brains
Assuming that he's go any
Though never nurtured in the lap of luxury
Yet I admonish you
I am an intellectual chap
And think of things that would astonish you
On sentry-go, to chase monotony
He exercises of his brains
Assuming that he's go any
Though never nurtured in the lap of luxury
Yet I admonish you
I am an intellectual chap
And think of things that would astonish you
I often think it comical
Fa la-la-la
Fa la-la-la
How nature always does contrive
Fa la-la-la la-la
That every boy and every gal
That's born into the world alive
Is either a little liberal
Or else a little conservative
Fa la la
These ruminations of private Willis, on "sentry-go" at midnight in Palace Yard, Westminster, open Act II of Gilbert and Sullivan's Iolanthe.
So how does nature contrive that every one of us is either a little liberal or else a little conservative? And can some of us become some of each?
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