"Song of the Land"

Ricardo Smith Paine are dead
  Keynes lies in a lowly bed

Tolstoy at last calm doth lie
  knowing "whence we are and why"

Mises Harris both are gone
  McEachran Hayek and Seldon

Friedman neither knows nor cares
  how "this heavy world now fares"

Little clinging grains enfold
  all the mighty nights of old...

Tim Congdon Booth Goodheart are blind
  John Greenwood Oliver like of kind

Pepper doth pretend to know
  Poor Smith bows a deep Kowtow

Ward and Wood best soon are dumb
  than join the chorus tum the tum

All best gone but we are here
  stoutly bringing up the rear

Where George went with limber ease
  toil we on with bloody knees

Though our voice is cracked and harsh
  Stoutly in the rear we march

Though our song have none to hear
  Boldly bring we up the rear

Dump "money supply" in a bin
  Suck dry the bubble of land sin