Render, and then Pill the Argonaut dead
Was such my Foul Plan most likely to Moot
So dissect I did; And Confess instead
To Tad Boot's Purpose breach this Hurl to boot
Which you, Kilowatt, continue to Shock
Even if such Current flows to displace
You have your Viziers; And your Writers lock
To Salt your Sweetness from such lone Disgrace
Till come to Senses I wired Respect
Which one must detect his Saint's Boon Relief
Or the Aghori - whom out of Defect
Drank morbid fluids from his skull's belief.
Worry not, Sir. Soon my Feisty Tea dissolve
Then let Others flavour to your Absolve.