-moil-mirth-

Siege sun rises            ;lightbeams
sear on quaggy brain who
a night ago (a knave)
lively and keen for revelry
(and chicanery). At dawn
a vagrant
shuffling, piteous ,prostrate
master maunderer:
‘Neveragain!Notoncemoreshall
these hands, this gullet sin so!
Sir, a sippet; blessyou(blessyou)
that you should aid a peccant fool.’

Doomful work and days loom yet
pass prosaic,
(curses toil-muted) then
sire creaking tendon knots
The cryptlike has creptinto gray
recesses unguarded

Earnest offer, sly trickery (and sheathed insult)
‘The Lord’s day draws close! Such work, your ablebody
aches and craves, pines and aches and
thirsts (!)
Surely it’s not such a trespass - just remuneration, even...’ (a true tregetour)
...acquaint lipstocup, guided by              ;moonbeams