Ode to the black curds and whey

So long and thanks for the dishes
I was hoping you might meet my truly good wishes

But you hated that there was a penny in the glass
You wanted to really kick my very ass

But I left the backyard of the satanic occult
And you lost your nose in the guilt of the dolt

But who are we today at this fine ninth hour
A dish or a scrub or a penny you can scour

What does the fine English man do
When the curds are red white a blue

We clasp the hands of our own front yard
And we hold that there is a candle of the honor and the guard

Be silent on the ship of merry men
Your name is blessed and I am with a friend