There hath existed no subject Which hath demanded less respect Than thou, so pray list' to me, Oh wretched foul Geography Of longitudes I wilt not sound Nor latitudes, nor heights of ground Of volcanoes, vales, I do not care 'Slong as I'm here and they stay there Who'd care where lava had once stayed After he hath been thus rendered dead? Hear ye, World, to all, Eureka! I've found a cure for all insomnia! If ox-bow lakes persist to form And rivers roar until they're born Just live, let live, and let them be! Before they all take leave and flee! Let rain forests keep their tiers And desert flo'ers their private fears Let Zephuros' breath come on unmeasured And barometers feel less pressured! If earth was meant to be thus fractured Or bits of soil bottl'd and captured They wouldn't have been left around In such abundance on the ground I see no point in how vapor's rapture'd, Of water's manners I needn't be lectured Your affair with froze' magma I cannot fathom Nor do I, indeed, your love of dead plankton Every named cloud's rise and descent Charting, I treat with deep resent Whether tendrils o' wind blow from land or sea 'Tis not my business, to blow they're free - Landfolds, tectonics, and whatnot Art knowledge I hath ne're sought And if for that you give me "F" Pray wonder, art thou as daft as deaf? Oh Geography, Geography, If among my "As" I ever see A red mark in the form of "G" It'll have stood for nought but thee!