Some men, 'bullfighters' argue three is one:
They went to school, but never learned to count -
Now math, by guesswork strategy, is done,
And ignorance does drink from stupid's fount.
Some men but peep before they buy, who run
To sell those woolly things, who play, or bleat,
What seems to be, if scrtuinized, a pun,
Which seems so like a baker's tasty sweet.
Some men need sit and analyze some more:
They need to work the contradiction out;
They need to knock at wisdom's gate or door,
And, seeking, find e'en that which baffles doubt.
Some men, half-stepping, tell it like a 'saint',
But sheep, on pseudo fodder, feeding, faint!