The Carcass
 Oh my love do you still recall
 The object which we saw
 That fair sweet summer morn
 Upon a bed of shingle
 That Its legs raised in the air
 Like some of the lustful woman
 Burning and sweating pest
 To view its noisome breast
 The sun shone down upon that putrescence
 As if to roast it to a turn
 So to repay to Nature
 What she had mingled there
 And the sky was the opening flower
 You thought to faint away
 Yet you will be like that
 To mould among the dead