Not exactly a panegyric, but some whole stanzas nevertheless. This from a colleague I am often mean to, and who returns my meanness in kind. But reality cannot stale her spirit; nor people, her compassion.
Over to her:
Busyboy busyboy,why do u always sigh
Hold ur head in ur hands
And always try try try
Busyboy busyboy look around you
The world is changing
And your youth is passing
Every second is new.
Busyboy busyboy,if you could just see,
How much someone wants you to be free,
To fly and dance and scream
Someday, busyboy,come talk to me.
Now this was sent over a messenger without any edits. But looks like a fairly good song to me.
Nobody ever has written anything on me. Apart from a semi-ridiculous article by my good friend Banerjee, who wanted to prove that he can create stories out of anything.