In the moon when it rains
Cold winds push, I blow
Out o’er the cottage;
– the Monday chimney smoke
Over the gallant hills,
Songs of fearful folk
Hue dims the jetty gardens
With cat-tongue licks and pokes
Bats caress our feet
Hung, stung and steep
To waste away in hostels
Where dirty dancers sleep
And whisk the while away
In boats where leopards gnarl
Crush away their teeth
And gnaw the plenty weak