Saving buts… At times when ‘t feels I’m going nuts, Like strangled by a Gordian knot, I dwell upon those helpful buts, To gently heal my mind that rots, I’m poor shaking hands with chintz, But rich when giving alms to tramps, I’m tiny standing by the Ritz, But giant to the Ritz on stamps, I’m goofing off at cushy job As eight-to-five computer viewer, But God will lead me to a knob, Which praise a perfect nothing-doer! I tilt at windmills with my mates, Who seem to scheme against me, dear, But scheme myself against who rates, So who’s the jerk so mean and mere? The sun shines drying out mud, But soaking rain restores the balance, We always find a saving “but”, To satisfy our boiling malice…