Yooper ways (short of rendering you dead)
Notably creative, screwing with you,
Mostly to get deep inside your fat head.
Below-bridgers, high on beer, talking brave
Are quietly taken to Cedar Caves
(think of a good place for putting new graves)
A place where canopies grow eight stories
Above your head, making total darkness
All below left unfed, entirely dead
A wasteland all around: What will you do?
Fucula never seen in there,
You find yourself all alone, blood gelid
Glancing down the wooded kloof you may hear
In the distance a mooncalf’s hungry woof.
Some would look at such situations
Insist we maintain our suspicions,
A fine idea given from afar
But hardly worth beans given where you are.
Your friends want you to be transpicious
To see through the prank and put it aside
But you are there afraid of scamando
Making you freeze skillie-eyed, Custer’s
Scout caught alone, in the know, too far out
To come or go, mindlocked with such real fear
Certain you will die, nothing you can do
But sit back and let loose a monster tear.
With resignation of your bad luck
(an aside perhaps about how this sucks)
You think you hear from nearby a whisper
Kaikki menni mita tule eika
Pusaken, What goes around comes
In the end all braggarts will be brought down.
This remains the Yooper way from distant
Past to this very day, most unlikely
They will ever change their relentless ways.