The Spoonbill Generator

If ever there were time for writing poetry, 'tis now [TG]

That merry day they call The Welder's Feast; [Roland]

When all the waiters stand and serve, and moon sails under cow [TG]

While Margelet kowtows to man and beast [Roland]

But where are all the poets from those heady days of yore? [P]

Could they have gone to join The Other Man? [TG]

Or have they drowned their sorrows with the fear-full fathom four [P]

While Xella snores, forgotten, in the van [Roland]

And Margelet lies crying in the Welder's lowly shack [P]

While pop-eyed piglets range across the plain [TG]

And watch the rotting spangles fading finally to black [Roland]

As Xella slowly twists inside her brain [TG]