Chorus:
The son of the know thing flew into today.
He left in a hurry -- had little to say;
But fore the barking sub side in his wake,
He helped out with vestiges sweeter than cake:

The Son:
Opulent givings are seldom a dread.
They help you relieve all them lies in your head.
But for the giving begets a sure vain,
Leave open a window and let in some rain.