Still scowling black

good Captain Clack

must eat his humble pie

His bed is made

the colours fade

his eyes once wet are dry

The naked muse

who sits and chews

tobacco off a tree

removes his shoes

gives way to booze

and searches endlessly

See the naked jumberlack

sip his aphrodisiac

Cotton-picking farmers three

Though I lost my weather vane

and of sense I have one grain

I'm content sipping lemon tea