What have we here, laddie? Mysterious scribblings? A secret code? No! Poems, no less! Poems, everybody! The laddie reckons himself a poet! "Money get back, I'

What have we here, laddie? Mysterious scribblings? A secret code? No! Poems, no less! Poems, everybody! The laddie reckons himself a poet! "Money get back, I'm all right, Jack, Keep your hands off my stack. New car, Caviar. Four star daydream, Think I'll buy me a football team." Absolute rubbish, laddie!