This poem has no historical context. It was concieved one morning over a particularly strong cup of coffee. Oratorio is misspelled.
Now we will be happy, happy, happy
and, lordy, lordy,
happy and happier still
happy running down the happy hill.
Like two happy rills or more,
hoarding the strands of their song
into a happy orotorio
falling down, down, down headlong
runnibg to calm cadenzas of pooled skill
run, run, run, run, run!
If happiness, mind you, were the moon
I'd grab both its horns and hold on.
Now we will be happy, happy, happy
and happily, happily, we'll
be happy and happier, still
happy running over the happy hill.