Alchemisland

Of what can I boast?

Health to whom none will toast

A worthless person, worse by the toke

My dispersing purse and erstwhile hope.

I am nursed by the castaways of merchants

My emergence makes them nervous

My clothes are mouldy and need detergent

Living the life of an urchin

Or an army deserter, only worse than both

I cast one last worthless vote then devote myself to the smiling rope.