Is it so shocking in such times to fail
To heal that slashed goodbye with a buy?
When RBS's lunging can't avail
To stem or succour, can bull hearts ride high?
The envelopes I picked up can't conceal
Through friendship this cold thriftiness, this deal;
Now, though the postponed tack embraces paint
Those Stuart faces betray August's taint.
Donne's sermons caught to Spitfire my style
Were all their shelf could proffer, yet too dear.
In all, each time I wrenched my card, too near,
In spite of Scots wool or stationer's aisle,
Your stare was felt unhidden in my hide,
I knew I bought things while crunched from your side.
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