Yet filled with epiph'nies,
Born a farmer into academic,
A wife's insanity,
Keeps him from his child, whom he loves dearly,
Who he was raising well,
Now dressed in costumes and told what to think,
In a real effort to make his life hell,
Barred from his wish to be a good teacher,
By jealousy and spite,
By a professor with something to prove,
Never e'en mind his wife!
That is Stoner,
Twentieth cent'ry Job?
A man just trying to follow his dreams,
With not a trace of ill-will in his bones.
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