To Tag, or not to Tag: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous Health & Safety Officers
And spend a couple of years banged up, mayhap
,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
(Join the SCCR)
And by opposing end them?
To die: to sleep; No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That Scaffolding is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished.
To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long a life of scaffolding
For who would bear the whips and scorns of site agents,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's need of money,
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of those in office and the spurns that patient merit of the unworthy takes, When he himself might have a far better solution
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscovered country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know are a set of w*nkers
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is lost with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.
Sorry Will
