Forth went the candid man
And spoke freely to the wind —
When he looked about him he was in a far strange country.
Forth went the candid man
And spoke freely to the stars —
Yellow light tore sight from his eyes.
“My good fool,” said a learned bystander,
“Your operations are mad.”
“You are too candid,” cried the candid man,
And when his stick left the head of the learned bystander
It was two sticks.
No one likes a critic. “Bravo!” Dare I say, the sticks mean war?