Give me a groat and I’ll emote on hope and faith, and craic
Should you not meet me on the way, you can on the way back
From hollow land and silly land, to form and sound, and black
The song you hear will be our own and never will shirk or jack
Too good to be true, too simple to work, you say inside your head
That tapping on the roof you hear, is rhapsody robbing the lead.
Jerks temporal physical
ecclesiastical spits
& spats dribs and drabs
scamper like sideways crabs,
those little sand ones,
super-sensitive little critters,
don’t want them in your vestments.
Just thought makes skin creep.
Icky rinse and unction,
gentian blue, geisha socks,
hollyhocks in aspic,
that’s fixed it. spit it out,
like venom or tripe
gloopy pukey cheesy goo:
Yuksville, Ariz.