There lived once a ghost called London,
Who shaped the world with might,
His largess is known precisely,
As it were his hands what fashioned the night.
"I will see that cunt in scabbed flesh…"
He said (as told) picking crumbling fang,
While tipping the brew from pot to cup,
"…Gone through with dual-pronged wang."
"And deified by turncoat night no longer,"
He prefaced the bloodletting with tea,
"Her death shall vomit out the land,
As her womb done forth the sea."
So for when he came upon her,
The witch who birthed the sea,
He left with her a secret in death,
And a grave marked "Eyes don’t see".