Dispose of this insipid wretch Don't listen to him prattle Would you prefer his serpent gab He'd most prefer a battle Of tongue Of wit Of liquid charm His clamor ripe with pins Deception paints his pallet Whilst crude light Bursts from within Just listen to his fallow fancy Be so rapt and coy Lie in sheets of poesy Asphyxiated by his ploy Mountain gives to suckling shore As gloaming prays for sun So whispers the pariah Of your fickle flesh undone