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Some confusion came into the face of the Dean
He had counted on victory all through the scene,
And a Guardian Angel who'd surely bee keen
But he hadn't a clue what the Angel might mean;
I was setting my mind on a whole other bent
At the mention of feathers, I knew where it leant,
And the tickling I thought this development meant
From the Feathers of Truth must be quite heaven-sent;
Then I cast out a glance over all of the guys
Who all stared at their buddies in eager surmise,
Finding this new arrival a splendid surprise
And the Feathers of Truth gave them all a big rise;

We were all looking round, and then when we were through
It was clear that not one of us had the least clue,
For not one of the lot of us said that he knew
What the Feathers of Truth might conceivably do;
There was silence a while as uncertainty grew
Til the Dean told the Angel, "I'm trusting in you,
For I cried in my need and right to me you flew
Before anyone here could begin to say Boo;"
And I saw the occasion in quite the same hue
For the Feathers of Truth could be bringing no rue,
And they might give my triumph incredible glue
So I said to the Angel, "I'm trusting you, too;"

From the heavenly garment inside a small fold
Soon the Guardian Angel had quite taken hold,
Of one feather of silver, another of gold
And he waved them aloft as he joyously told;
"These can easily read what your minds might confuse
And their magic will show what your hearts freely choose,
Whether each of your feet would be better in shoes
Or if footwear is merely a thing you should lose;
And they'll likewise reveal if you'll thrill to the joys
Of the feet-tickled laughter of true giggleboys
Or if anyone's tired of the giggles and noise
And desires the return of decorum and poise;"