Sunday, June 05, 2005

The Ebony Baboon

The Ebony Baboon is a dread night to smell,
A somewhat detectable habit as well.
With eyebrows upraised, but with no truth to tell,
They bid us cry uncle, who've bent down to fell.
And as they go forth, with a steamboat, on knee,
Like monks to their matins at Byzantium town,
It's tilting at windmills to say you and me
Could ever, on zebraback, cob Arthur's crown.

   —Spring 1977

Labels:

1 Comments:

Blogger Peter Burgess said...

nice - how can I contact you, by the way?

Wednesday, June 14, 2017 7:41:00 PM  

Post a Comment

<< Home