Eagerly the Dudshires hailed it,
Thought that it was going to save them,
But it always came to nothing.
So they sweltered through the summer,
Through the arid Balkan summer,
And the sun beat down upon them,
Hot as towels a Yankee barber
Claps upon you when he’s shaved you.
They would rise at godless hours,
Working in the dawn and evening,