We don't even "understand it," so of course it isn't true.
When we're called upon to go, each will say, all louting low,
"After you!"
We are not "competitive," like those naughty goddesses
Who poor Paris fluttered so upon Ida's pine-clad peak.
Of his "choice"—through selfishness—that young shepherd made a mess,
But our Shepherd, SALISBURY, will not be so wildly weak;
And our claims we shall not urge to compulsion's very verge,
On the contrary each one thinks that "another" best will do.
"No, loved comrade" (each will say) "let me make my 'splendid splurge'