With pigeon force the air men
come clattering. It would be sad
if it wasn’t so funny, one swore.

Stay out of the nettles.
Do not live above the shop.
His men may find you there.
Otherwise, as coma says, my beans, my peas, my coma
get read into the riot act.

That comes later.

After three decades of futility, you have to ask:
Who was this composer?
Was he known for anything else?
Is the mere survival of the notes justified,
or do we all survive this way, more or less?