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When, shaking off the fleas and mites,
You rest upon the meadow’s sights—
You act like one who’s lost and broke,
For not buying Meshok-Gorshok.

When, turning on the lights at home,
You stuff the soil in Meshok-Gorshok’s dome,
You act like one with taste and flair,
And start an eco-revolt with care.

When, filling up the Meshok-Gorshok,
You sell your veggies for some bucks,
You’re doing just as farmers do,
A husband, man, and earth’s true crew.