1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12Southern baroque’s seductive dialogue
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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