Faces upon which we frown
Hold the key to our future
Hasten our happiness in the town
Where we grow our cute culture.
Faces upon which we cast mud
Hold the key to our forward march
Hasten our hunger for the spud
From which we secure social starch.
Faces upon which we heap blame
Hold the key to the treasure
Hasten the confirmation of the name
Which on us bestow immeasurable pleasure.
Faces upon which we lumber humbug
Hold the secret to the vault
Hasten our acquisition of the mug
That half full clears our fatal fault.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem