Pee Fever

I must get up for a pee again, to the dowly pee must I hie,
And all I ask if I fall or slip no mar to veer forbye,
And the real kick the wind’s strong and the night hails its breaking,
And a fey frist my dreams replace, and a blay drawn aching.

I must get up for a pee again, for the thrall of the drumming chide
Is a vild thrall and a drear thrall that may not be belied;
And all I ask is to find my way with the blight shrouds dying,
And the hung fray and the flown brume when the bell-pull’s plying.

I must get up for a pee again, to this vacant whimsy life
To the trull’s way and the ale’s way, where the mind’s like a fettered stife;
And all I ask is nary a yarm from this coughing callow shrover,
And quiet sleep and sweet dreams when the long trickle’s over.