Biscuit crisp

Among the green bejungled night
A pride of parsley stopped to fight.
Espying crude their image I
Denounced my horse and made to fly.

I set-off at once to my distaste
And ran for years this land of waste.
Broken like a four leafed clover,
Jubilee when it was over.

Caustic brews your case in court.
The day is long but life is short
And we a minnow set to judge,
Will it be fire? Will it be fudge?

Your Honour I would love to take,
This trousered patty cattle snake
Bestirs to smell your sweet perfume
And folds the bedding in your room.

Curse these fingers, call my bluff.
Take too much and cry "enough!"
The fight was won: the horse the prize.
You're all my thoughts, so close my eyes.