He bent right down to pick up his valise
When masons clutch the breath we held on loan
The Turks said just take anything you please
One gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
They both are right not untamed mutterings
With sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
Proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
For burning bushes never fish forgave
Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
Or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
To prove mamma an adult with a tress
Bard I adore your endless monologue
With marble souvenirs then fill a slum
They're kings we're mammal-cousins hi ho hum