"Stockades"

Oh dear, you are the water,
 And I lower myself into your water,
 Like a mealy-mouthed calf that is suckered to the slaughter
 Like a green serpent coiled upon the breast of your daughter
 Oh did you ever think of the twice-cursed night?
 Oh dear you are the water?
 And I lower myself into your water,
 Like a mealy-mouthed calf that is suckered to the slaughter,
 Like a prescription prescribed by the doctor who lives within the
 Palisades of rain, oh I kiss you on the corner of your eye,
 Between the masthead horizon and the suicide sway of the rustling rye
 Oh I kiss you in the corner when you're dry
 Though the boats of Hong Kong do stockade London,
 Oh I kiss you in the corner when we're dry
 Though Sharon you sing for your pardon,
 Did you ever sing on the twice-cursed night,
 Did you ever suck on the teat of what was white,
 Hold on and hold on and hold all along
 to the B's and the breeze
 Oh B Oh B Oh B
 When you bottom the boats, the weeds deign to sigh,
 But the Admirals "chicken," the General's "chicken"
 How painful they rise.