Still scowling black 
good Captain Clack 
must eat his humble pie 
His bed is made 
the colours fade 
his eyes once wet are dry 

The naked muse 
who sits and chews 
tobacco off a tree 
removes his shoes 
gives way to booze 
and searches endlessly 

See the naked jumberlack 
sip his aphrodisiac 
Cotton-picking farmers three 
Though I lost my weather vane 
and of sense I have one grain 
I'm content sipping lemon tea