Moonlight beckons me down the street
I could not but my lover meet
Thrice forlorn and rather dazed
For a swig of rum my liver crazed,
Throngs of motion filled the haze
You could not but put the glaze
On the pots and pans and silver trays
Of crying children lather paste
To clean the hoodlums off the face.
Fine knickers and dirty clothes
Hung to dry on silver ropes,
Thrice forgotten my lungs began
To breathe begotten trump brigande.
Crazy, daisy, lazy tree
Speak the book, come after tea
Mend up this apple skein
To fill the cupboard seldom clean.
When a cold wind blew
From the north of the stove
It took out the flame
Carrying it thorough,
Down the street in a big furrow,
A juvenile freak with a rusted hoe.
Nails of lentils, corn and maize
Ate the insects lorn and gazed;
supplying them with a misty haze
A crow did crow a big ca-rr-oo
A lumpy, humpy, stumpy maid
Carried the frayed press
Down and praised
Over the hills and after the days,
I chumpy, crumpy, lumpy laid.
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