Mr Mustard Comes Tonight

Rig rag Shaggy rag Rip, rip, rip, Wrinkle in the water A wilder whisper Crepuscular crème brûlée. What is madness really? Have I not a wordly thought? Wordly jumble, Words, words, words, Coherent as a Dostoevsky mumble. Musing wrists and elbows in a swaddle, Up of green and purple trumpets, Sickly technicolour cuddle. Circadian bunny pudding. Hullo, there it is again! I saw it there, just there! Did not. But so I did! I’m not mad, I saw it there. A rig rag shaggy rag? No, not that. You did not see it — no. It’s gone now — half a moment. Is it there? The level jelly? Come with us, dearie. Cuddle cuddle, Jelly swaddle. Sleep a day or nine. Till it wears off, the custard killer. Mr. Mustard comes tonight.