A skin of a shroud
a stump of the bled
old Lily is flyblown
old Lily is dead
and dreams of the jungle
will flood through her head
and light up her head.

I held your hand and watched the blood pool between your legs. You lived long enough to see Edwin, but not Enoch. I will take care of them my love, I promise you this.

Hands are bleeding, raw. I scrub and scrub but the smell will not lift. How can I hold my children with these hands now? How can I kiss them goodnight with lips that have issued such instruction?

Higgeldy Piggeldy blue china eyes
My love comes to me in the fairest disguise
We skips and we totters
I seize her hind trotters
And enter her porcelain thighs.

Send the Tramp Catcher, cosh the old man
Sink him in a barrel of gin
When he's all mixed and the bones turned to jam
We'll raise a glass kindly to him.