ANTHERAL

It appears that everyone has got a
Statistic to attach themselves to,
And I don’t - for example:
One of our friends is allergic to something,
Whilst twice that amount are rotund,
And three million people have done things
That more than four fifths haven’t done.
And a sixth of us have bad circulation,
And a seventh have minds that are lost,
Whilst eight out of ten mystics are certain
That the ninth circle of hell has been crossed.
And eleven per cent have gone bust,
Whilst twelve provide cash on demand,
And those born under the sign of Ophiuchus
Have fourteen more outs in their hand.
Now you’ll get fifteen to one odds of dieing
From the sixteenth cigarette of the day,
Whilst seventeen year olds who can’t drive
Live eighteen more years that way.
And most play around at the nineteenth hole,
With twenty per cent less of their livers,
As twenty one million more bankroll
The twenty two million skivers.
And it’s been twenty three years since virginity,
And twenty four from graduation,
And if I don’t get a quarter of gin in me
I’ll not finish this dissertation,
And as I’m only twenty odd years away
From collecting my own residues,
I’ll make do with being fifty per cent of
The genders that make up the news.