Whether a person or a cow, we just can’t resist looking in a hole.
There I was, a-digging this hole. A hole in the ground, so big and sort of round it was. There was I, digging it deep. It was flat at at the bottom and the sides were steep. When along comes this bloke in a bowler, which he lifted and scratched his head. Well we looked down the hole, poor demented soul, and he said,”Do you mind if I make a suggestion? Don’t dig there, dig it elsewhere. Your digging it round and it ought to be square. The shape of it’s wrong, it’s much too long. And you can’t put hole where a hole don’t belong.” I ask, what a liberty eh! Nearly bashed him right in the bowler. Well there was I, stood in me hole. Shovelling earth for all I was worth. There was him, standing up there. So grand and official with his nose in the air. So I gave him a look sort of sideways and I leaned on my shovel and sighed. Well I lit me a fag and having took a drag I replied, “I just couldn’t bear, to dig it elsewhere. I’m digging it round co’s I don’t want it square. And if you disagree, it doesn’t bother me. That’s the place where the holes gonna be.” Well there we were, discussing this hole. A hole in the groud, so big and sort of round it was. Well it’s not there now, the ground’s all flat. And beneath it is the bloke in the bowler hat. And that’s that!