This old goat with beard of grey

He turns his leather gripped cane,

Those times you clapped and called for quiet

They've come to hold you, ain't that nice?

He packs a fat oom paul to

Jib and make home-baked perfume

Sips froth from soft, warm joe

Snug eiderdown bedclothes.

You know, you know the way that I hide.

Come on you hermit, you never fight back

Why don't you play with bows and arrows?

Why don't you dance like

You're sick in your mind?

Why don't you set your wings on fire?

You slick back that wiry mane

A neat tucked slice

Deep trees sleep on the dank lawn

And scratch the slate

You finger down that waxen line

Between your breasts

That squeaky pain upon each breath

The plumbers left.

You know the way that I hide for you.

Come on you hermit, you never fight back

Why don't you play with bows and arrows?

Why don't you dance like

You're sick in your mind?

Why don't you set your wings on fire?

Come on you hermit, why don't you play nice?

Why don't you toy with sex and violence?

Why don't you stare back

Into my huge eye?

Why don't you set my wings on fire?