The hurricane sits in the trees, the earthquake in the grass,
Shall I kiss the poison ivy, or cuddle the snake in the grass?
Windbags rant, the minions chant, a cataclysm is imminent,
Time to anoint the pirates, and entomb the sheikh in the grass.
Worker geese are stuff-taxed, that the parasites feast on foi gras,
Gorged with the orchard savage thugs will claim a stake in the grass.
Murmuring rivers, flourishing falls are cloistered in tall concrete,
Parched and starving caravan scrapes by snowflakes in the grass.
Uma for an ounce of wine they will undress many a vineyard,
Soaked with odours of death are the crusted mud cakes in the grass.