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This parody of T S Eliot's was originally contributed to the Fantasy Archers topic of the Archers

Let us go then, you and I,
While the evening is a spreadsheet in the sky
Like a spreadsheet etherized upon a table;
Let us go, through all those half-deserted barns,
And muttering of country yarns
Of restless nights in Grey Gables' dark hotels
And little restaurants just off the Borchester Road.
Barns that stand there like a tedious argument
(But surely one could write off rent?)
To lead you to the same old bloody question...
Oh, do not ask, "Is hunting morally justifiable?''
Above all it is economically viable.

In the room the women stand and bake
Talking of lemon drizzle cake.

And where's that dog that rubs its back upon the window-panes?
The yapping dog that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes
And never shut up into the corners of the evening?
Had to get its drinks from pools and food from drains.
Let fall upon its back the boot that falls from Shula.
Slipped by the farmyard, made a sudden leap,
And seeing a whole world out there, it froze
Yapped once more about the house, and away on its toes.

And indeed there will be time
For the fleeing dog that belts along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;
There will be time, there will be time [yes, yes, we get it - there will be time]
To prepare a sharp new suit to wear to parties that you meet;
There will be time to ponder and to paint,
And time for the wringing of my hands
That let's face it, end up with a watercolour of 'Ambridge at dawn' on a plate;
Time for you and time for me. [YES,THERE WILL BE TIME]
And time yet for a hundred bouncing cheques,
And for a hundred smart new polo necks,
Before the taking of a house in Glebelands.

In the room the women stand and bake
Talking of lemon drizzle cake.

And indeed there will be time [......]
To wonder, "Where's the dog?'' and, "Do I dare?''
Time to cultivate some awfully messy hair,
That signifies an artist in despair
[They will say: "I'd say his painted earthenware is charming'']
My polo neck, my chinos snaking from my hips
My new coat daringly artistic, but somewhat ruined by the bicycle clips-
[They will say: "But people hereabouts should stick to farming!'']
Do I dare
Disturb the choir rehearsal?
Luckily, in a minute there is time
Well, I'd say - roughly sixty seconds - to allow reversal.

For I have known them all already, known them all:
Agronomists, the agricultural profit estimaters
I have measured out my life with calculators;
And if I fail, I'll do the books of Dave 'n' Pheel
(He plonking piano from a farther room.)
So what's the big deal?