Nautical graves and practical poets,
Woman's condition and cultural woe.
Heaving sensations accompany the telly.
What's worse than these? The end of the show.
Our lives, like globes, stiffly revolving;
White serpents crawl throughout and choke.
Resignation I give to High Society's office.
My passion - your kindling - stoke.
Woe for the compassionate daughter,
Ode to thee, misanthropic son.
Whether come hell or highwater,
Both will burn in ineffable sun.
