Pliny the somethingth's request for a title
put through the paces of a mincing machine
will form this, the entirety of my presentation,
to you, paid for by the flatulence tax.  

VAT fantastic.  I love the Government.

They're dropping bombs on Syria.  
It's Tories to the centre left,
or ****** policy to welfare,
my neighbour to my neighbour.  

397 to 223,
or 40 million to the rest.

I love the feel of a dusty parcan without a bulb,
or electrics, or anything at all except an empty shell,
In another life I lived alone, and kept lamps as pets.  
Birdies flying around my head, and cantatas doing what they do,
barndoors wagging, or shutters fluttering off to sleep in the moonlight,
with a single 50 degree spot to scare away the rats and mice.

Scootery dootery do.  
Scootery dootery dootery do.
Scootery dootery dottery do.
Scootery scootery splat.

Take it to Glasnevin,
and write IHS on the stone.  
That's what I'll be saying,
IHS with the voice in my mind.  
After Michaelmas is gone,
IHS, pleadingly, a lamb of God,
and a little after, exaltingly,
from a rooftop garden in the city centre,
where I can plant flowers.

Would that the earth,
had such a hold,
on body as on mind.  
That mind and mass
were not bonded such,
and in their union,
mutual torment.  
Were they apart,
which preference should I take?  
Which pleasure gives,
the other takes away,
yet when the first supplies not,
the other must do for both.  
What is pain,
less the apprehension of pain?  
What is there to diminish joy,
Without a notion of its end?
The baggage of the flesh,
counterweighs the baggage of the mind,
so would that this dilemma were real,
then should it console.

That which in day the brightest burns,
at night is seen to pale,
when sun and moon resolve in turns,
to light the merry earth below,
with spirit for the coming dawn.  
The faintest evanescent glow,
will light the path of one and all.  

The poet’s lamp is shepherd’s sun,
though barren it may seem,
bard and flocksman alike are won,
to reverence for the midnight star,
which though the tides each way may draw,
the greatest power it has by far,
is guidance in the darkest hour.