1At five precisely out went La Marquise
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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