1When one with t’other straightaway agrees
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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