"Stockades"

Oh dear, you are the water, And I lower myself into your water, Like a mealy-mouthed calf that is s*ckered 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 s*ckered 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 s*ck 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.