Far from fiendish filth, I’ll faithfully find my feet
Oh, only using an ointment I’ll oil my oaken oar
Refusing rifling romance from rows of real rides
Even-so every endeavor entreating evermore

Vile the vine, vain the shine that vexes my veneer
Every edge entreated, engenders ease of ache
Remove my resignations; my ruddy itching fear
My matron out of maiden did my marriage make

You yearn yet you yell, as your fellow is yellow
Deserving his death, and dearth of the deed
Engaged in the ending, enter elbow and ear
An angst that achieves anger and all are agreed

Reserving real rage til receiving the results
Entertaining every edgy enervating end
Stultifying satiation staving-off with salts
Till the termination of this terror, true friend, ...toward the tryst you tend