some sort of game

no one expects the answer to be quick

a simple matter is not what we know

still pride demands that we give the last lick

after warm rain cold air makes the fog thick

but it would take a fool to want breeze blow

no one expects the answer to be quick

you were taught long ago the price of brick

and how to make the faster ones go slow

still pride demands that we give the last lick

to those who demonstrate that they are thick

in spite of all the efforts that we show

no one expects the answer to be quick

only that some good sense be made to stick

within the hardest heads with no outflow

still pride demands that we give the last lick

on the behinds of those who think to prick

our solid patience and escape the blow

no one expects the answer to be quick

still pride demands that we give the last lick