The Oast-House Symposium
It moves an inch a minute
My pocket megaphone
If you once looked in it
You'd soon become a drone
Yes, you could not credit
The wealth that it inspires
Lest we try to edit
The light of sundry fires
Fourteen over seven
Is my age in years
Add to eleven
For the wight of years
Before it ends in tears
I speak in it each morning,
My endoscope of jade
That every day is fawning
And every sense conveyed
To those of lesser years
Before it ends in tears
Its workings are a marvel
It sees down every throat
Into the gut that's laval
It tips the antidote
Essence of goat
Envoi
Invention's ever new and bold
Yet truth is never undersold
Contributors: | Surlaw, Apsley, (trad). |
Poem finished: | 8th February 2004 by Apsley. |