I cannot give the Reasons,
I only sing the Tunes:
The sadness of the Seasons,
The madness of the Moons.
 
I cannot be didactic
Or lucid, but I can
Be quite obscure and practic-
Ally marzipan
 
In gorgery and gushness
And all that's squishified
My voice has all the lushness
Of what I can't abide
 
And yet it has a beauty
Most proud and terrible
Denied to those whose duty
Is to be cerebral!
 
Among the antlered mountains
I make my viscous way
And watch the sepia fountains
Throw up their lime-green spray.