And now a toast for
those who, red with wine
from Côte de Nuits,
cankered from the bed,
bellied and belching
like a furnace, dined
all night on
oysters, figs and braised hog's head
which gleamed in
candlelight among the grapes;
who primped their
burning skulls with antlers, patched
with plumes their
pimpled skin, and swung like apes
from chandeliers
until their nightmares hatched,
who now begin to
crawl between the dogs,
which sleep with
blood and beer in clotted fur,
on hands and knees
and neck outstretched to snog
the shaggy gorgeous
arse of Lucifer.
Oh Lord I do
repent my joy and health
I am not worthy
of this plundered wealth.
AW
The Banquet - Michael Joseph
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