I’ll tickle your catastrophe!”

and mock your witless pettiness

you goeth back and forth and doubleth over

and seeth not thou prank and tarry yourselves

thou art discontent ghosts haunting your dead shadows

all nowt but labourers popinjays worth less than a farthing

and in the slipstream of noble grace you devour your illusions

and dost emerge harlequin ghosts playing vaudeville in mud pits

thou stations mocks you just as your mindlessness mocks you to boot

and thou all knoweth to your shame you birth from gullies an villains