(More than in the mire from the central line poetry tube)

Well, it was *** for a tat and a tidbit that was the last draw for the last straw and the camel looked on.
I've gone and happy about it, the pills help me out just a tiny bit, but the Toby jug thinks that I am the mug, so it's *** for tat and oh how I laugh and the camel is there looking on.
She takes me to water, the Devils own daughter and forces this man to partake,
but
the man is his mountain, his cataract, fountain, from whichever who wants to will flow.
So a tidbit a tat for a bit of all that seems a very fair price I should pay.
The camel walks away with the ****.