An ingenuous yokel who never ventured far from local
Lives in slumberous bliss
No mad galloping rush to rail station train crush
Or timely schedual to miss
A drowsy rising sun a Potter about till day is done
Bread warm rays and a beer
No panic back paddle or unceremonious skedaddle
Only easy oasy gear
Intellectually seen as an inferior creature being
Bereft of scope in thought
Presbyterian love of work knows him only as a shirk
Who couldn't nor wouldn't be taught
Gentry in the town present yokel as dafty clown
To those they must employ
Those overwhelmed by the grind will all surely find
How idle bones annoy
We embrace popular notions fine tuned to our emotions
Which captivate the willing
We seldom gauge oursel and always by the wishing well
We bait our hook with shilling
Thoughts so fickle from values grasp they fairly trickle
To meet our deepest needs
We are always to be found at the lavish hunting ground
Where ravenous egos feed
Scolded in superior tone the yokel only hears the moan
A dreary drone of dispair
Peeping up a pompous nose in wonder why their anger grows
He neither knows nor care
No instinct to be judge the yokel never owned a grudge
Nor psyched another's pleasures
Benifit from yokels style relax and reflect awhile
On fleeting life's simple leisures
#geordie boot
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