About

What have we here laddie? Mysterious scribblings? A secret code? Oh, Poems no less!
Poems everybody! The laddie reckons himself a poet!

Money,
Get back,
I'm alright Jack,
Keep your hands off of my stack.
New car,
Caviar,
Four-star daydream,
Think I'll buy me a football team.

Absolute rubbish laddie! Get on with your work!

(Pink Floyd, The Wall, 1979)