The Ambrosial Gaol
                             __________________
                  or: "Fragment of a Mad Perfumer's Confession"


                  Pardon,
                      My only perfume
                      So pinguid and coarse.

                      Stale masonry, I fear,
                      Makes an osseous palette perforce.

                      Ahhh...

                  It is the scent of grease paint,
                      A sundial's spoor,
                      The odor of few hours:
                             The bell-man's choral chore.

                  Will ye...
                        Or nill ye?
                  (My iconoclastic compeer),
                        Abhor, but hear?

                  The cologne of clockwork nips me,
                  And the keeper's a'near.

                        Certainly,
                                Certainly...

                  As the stink of each gimmal and malodorous gear.

                        Crack,
                            Crack,

                  With the mephitis, of the chamber pot's
                  Craquelure.



Crowkeeper (Cornelius Scarecrow esquire)