Some say your greatest enemy is yourself That lesser you inside, that little puppet, that elf Strings to your fingers, strings to your toes One to your spine and one to your nose You can tumble and crash and he’ll be unbroke Witty and gritty, as elusive as smoke Post tumble’s when he’s most likely to speak His strings are strung tightest, whenever you’re weak Not to wait then, until you are broken Give him the stage and he’ll have already spoken He feeds best on virtue, this gritty little elf So feed him his share, as you would your belly’s self Virtues is the sort, that means then not vices His tastes may seem bland so be weary of spices Heed not this advice, and we’ve a puppet… Left to his own devices Not worth getting clever, don’t saw at those strings You’ll soon find out they’re sinewy things Introduce yourselves; it could help if you’ve met The you inside you, that mischievous marionette