The setting, Easter 1899, a large dog suppresses a **** in the middle
of the night, Polacks are eating grapes in the dim moon light, a war
is fought by Saigon girls whose betel-nut-red teeth are ready to bite Inbreeding has hurt my folks a lot like 5 slugs hurt John Lennon on
the night that he was shot, after smoking a hefty garbage bag of ***
Breanna, when we talk it is like 732 trillion huge propane cylinders
exploding in Pottsville, West Pittsburgh & in the Irish County Cork
that could destroy 78 sailors, having unhelmeted ******* at the port
Like 4 pine trees crying in the night, I am the barking, needling sort
who's 60 feet tall, hobbling on stilts, not low-to-the-ground or short
& then I will disappear, like piny pines do durin' emergently-severe
toilet-paper shortages brought on by mouldily-black groat porridges
We'll name our baby Anna, if that does not make you bitter, & feed
her parsnips & pies on Sunday while she plays in unused kitty litter
By myself, I am again, jangling 'round with my jingly bits, so I say,
“Climb down off my pimpled ***, with those 3 milky, pinkish ****!”