The poet reels in silence.—A.P.
my record is very clear
you can do what you want with it
up or down
et cetera my friends the lousy folk song
was not enough for him
he had to cover it
under some other title the Kenite
chit it is not any of the thing
we would like
it’s this or
that
but never what we fancy
worth a whistle
ghastly women these
frigid forlorn and frowning
but it is morning
and oh why not do for yourself
lest ye be done? pshaw