THE FURRY QUEEN

Ill met by moonlight proud Titania, my iron maiden,
I hear them pounding but satanist rhetoric not again;
I'll give you magic if you wish, come down to my stream,
in the moonlight, sprites danced, made love inbetween.

The reliance on being evocative is more than strange mon ami,
devils and imps - I push them all aside where they should be;
playing to the mystical gallery - is that what you wanted to hear?
so many, then we'll count and then there were none we fear.

That strange queen cast aspertions, nasturtiums on her hat,
but we all acquiesced with the zig-zag smile of a fat cat;
and so there we have it - much is revealed after all,
I think I prefer Pink Floyd - another brick in the wall.

'Ah, Mr. Andrew (pseudonym), you're a writer of the day,
'I don't think some of us appreciate what you're trying to say.'