Holy jumping pregnant cyanotypes
and all the king's albu-men
were leaning on the fence one ultrviolent day
when a maelstrom sailed their very way
a male storm she said
a mal strum he pled
so they couldn't go out and play
the albu-men sat cracked
split asunder on the heath
there was no mention of repair by the folk
just the stink of a bad yolk
lying underneath
van dyke stroked his beard
and lady chatterly staked her bard
words semmingly were never heard
as each turned over card after card
rave and rant
over each cant
raise the jib and a glass of sham pain
lettuce cork it up
'n start all over again
so
there was york
and new york
and yaks
and yakety yaks
and waning and waxing
and then it was raining and now 'tis taxing
once ideas were clarified by light
and imagination's abstruse flight
but now there seems to be a beggar's opera
of pride and hurt and insight's lack
to wrong what was right
oh, verily, I say, give me back the night
knot the knight in shaming amour
not the damsel in dis-or-dat-dress
floating down a stream o' the moor
oh lady of shallot
and mister palladium
quench thy bitter bidker
plant a flower in that pot
and sing tum de deum
there is a dark tarnish
and prior to the varnish
banish puerile whiz-dumb
and the pulchritudinous slight
we aint her to fight
and shove
we are here to celebrate sight
and to make love