The man on the Clapham omnibus

The truth is your, your father with a drink in you.
 A bad spirit raises in you and your an apparition of unbridled lust and vanity
 
Like a flaming medusa your hair stands on end as you enter rampant ardour
heavens I do nt know where you get the urge at your age
A dog in heat and it's none of my doing
 
I should have never left Galway
The shame of it
And to think you never used to be this way
A drinker
 
 A man shall be twice lashed
This evening
Once by an old choice

Then by an old habit renewed