That David Hume, he wrote a book
So I thought I would a look
Then all my time it did consume –
He wrote a book, that David Hume
To write his tome, he had no cause
For skeptical of cause he was
No he, no self, was there at home
He had no cause to write this tome
Why read or write, if naught exists?
Yet on and on, the book persists
A skeptic lacking one insight —
If naught exists, why read or write?