Painkillers and poetry – they don’t mix –
Pop-a-pill – kill-a-pain – take-a-fix.
Look at the air, dead and dull, mumble,
“My dear, please, please don’t fumble!”
Fetch me a book of words today,
Let me read from ‘Doubleday’ –
Purple tree under a foamy lea,
Basalt vulture above the sea –
And fairy-lemon gateaux
Perched with nutty bureaux.
Avoid all vocal clots,
Beware of verbal blots:
Avoid the sound of ‘Kaa’,
That jungle ballerina.
Painkillers and poetry – they don’t mix –
Pop-a-pill – kill-a-pain – take-a-fix.