Fallen like straw with a pig in a millow,
Songs in my heart like a flute in a pillow.
Comforted frost in your evergreen wind,
Got all the past that you’ll never rescind.
Tempter rebounded, don’t scatter my ashes
By temples confounded and matter by lashes;
The whip of the cream and the quantum-flux ardour
Beheld ’neath a team of the mightiest larder.

Gibbons have trumpets like ferrets in berets;
Rhinos have horns which they thrust on the frehways—
And yet I still see your face: it is floating;
Much like the clows and the shleep, it is gloating.
What all the hell and the gall and the ball?
Flimsy old-face-man, you drive up the wall?
I’ll set fire to pharaohs, and enter their houses;
And boshity-bishity blink at their mouses.