He flings me hard onto the dry rocky surface
and I allow death to capture me in its embrace.
The colossal beast —with impenetrable armour—
standing over me like an immense tower. ...
(With apologies to the singer of the “Song of the Banjo”.)
I'm a homely little bit of tin and bone;
I'm beloved by the Legion of the Lost;
I haven't got a “vox humana” tone,
And a dime or two will satisfy my cost.
I don't attempt your high-falutin' flights;
I am more or less uncertain on the key;
... Read complete poem