The Crusader

And we sat under A gazebo that sat Under palm trees, Standing and smiling At our seashore, Emptying kegs of Palmwine in our Calabash and... And then emptying The calabash in our Stomachs... An exquisite experience, I daresay! The periwinkle-gatherer Alighted from her Canoe that arrived from Upper sea, bending in her Walk, no gratitude to her Culture. Beside her followed Her shadow, ever faithfully. Their movement our common Entertainment as we emptied More fills of our calabash in us... Entered the Crier, crying, like A crying Cricket, "The Archbishop of Canterbury, And the Pope have now Legalized a Skirt and another Skirt together, and a Trouser And its kind together!" We unveiled the Holy Book, In our flabbergastedness, Afterwards, and replayed The Crier's cry in our heads. "A pity, for this shall soon be Written in you by the Unknown In Time to come and be said to Be of the good God." Were our only audibility. We looked up and behold the gyre For the legalization inundated Our Vicinity! For the Crier's cries Had spread its legs like a rumor. Sadly, my partner patted her hairs And we returned to our kegs, Contemplating...