Palsy

Gallop from the gin-fields:

                                                  I'll be moss and you be sheriff.

                                                  We all say no

                                                  one ever wants to be sheriff.

Smudged hands out: one two three.

                                                  I'll be rock so you be moss.

        (we all in unison aw)


We are blanket-tight in the pinched-liquor bed,

we make for play: