Bumfuzzle

To confuse

And to muzzle

Is all to bumfuzzle

To loosing your sock

And forgetting a lock

That goes to a chest

Which I must jest

Is locked away upon

What, a dreary evening pond

Oh the irony at

How I now see

That life is no longer

An object for men to squander

We must straighten our lines

And repay all fines

Learn of our past errors

Never fall back on terrors

Stand strong and as whole

Lest we all pay our toll

As ashes to ashes then to dust

We are like metal, but we may rust