How Pleasant to Know Mr. Browne

Good evening folks! I've been without broadband at 'home' for a long time due to evolving domestic arrangements. That situation is now remedied and to celebrate I have created a Pandora station called "Lachrymost Radio" which plays country music to accompany our bittersweet meditations over a private drink. Listen and raise a glass to us and ours.

I've bought the necessary pancake fixings to celebrate Shrove Tuesday with my five year old tomorrow. Combining that with the launch of "lachrymost radio", how could I fail to remember, "he weeps by the side of the ocean, he weeps on the top of the hill; he purchases pancakes and lotion, and chocolate shrimps from the mill"?

'How pleasant to know Mr.Lear!'
Who has written such volumes of stuff!
Some think him ill-tempered and queer,
But a few think him pleasant enough.

His mind is concrete and fastidious,
His nose is remarkably big;
His visage is more or less hideous,
His beard it resembles a wig.

He has ears, and two eyes, and ten fingers,
Leastways if you reckon two thumbs;
Long ago he was one of the singers,
But now he is one of the dumbs.

He sits in a beautiful parlour,
With hundreds of books on the wall;
He drinks a great deal of Marsala,
But never gets tipsy at all.

He has many friends, lay men and clerical,
Old Foss is the name of his cat;
His body is perfectly spherical,
He weareth a runcible hat.

When he walks in waterproof white,
The children run after him so!
Calling out, 'He's gone out in his night-
Gown, that crazy old Englishman, oh!'

He weeps by the side of the ocean,
He weeps on the top of the hill;
He purchases pancakes and lotion,
And chocolate shrimps from the mill.

He reads, but he cannot speak, Spanish,
He cannot abide ginger beer:
Ere the days of his pilgrimage vanish,
How pleasant to know Mr. Lear!