I’m thinkin’, how quick can a getaway b,

talkin’ of birds’ thumbs & spurious wings

at the raree, gummin’ my shoes,

endin’ up in gnomon land, at night,

I should say, almost, alluringly,

went fore the ride, cot in hand,

& the glass blower’s stand & the band

in bandanas, the paladin’s tent,

the knife grinder’s bench, to the charmers’,

& bought me some gloves I could use,

tied up my shoes & removed, quietly to