We are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for.
I seem to remember another response to the shepherd, but when I went looking for it I got distracted by this link. I have no idea how true the claims are but I found it interesting one several levels, being tawdry, esoteric and literary.
Poor Walter had to sit around in quite uncomfortable conditions in the Tower of London for many years before his death. What else could the poor man do but write poetry -- some pretty darn good poetry at times. Like this:
"Even such is time that takes in trust,
Our youth, our joys, our all we have,
And pays us but in earth and dust.
Who in the dark and silent grave,
When we have wandered all our ways,
Shuts up the story of our days.
But from this earth, this grave, this dust,
My God shall raise me up, I trust."