The Wind’s Bastinado

The wind's bastinado
Whipt on the calico
Skin of the Macaroon
And the black Picaroon
Beneath the galloon
Of the midnight sky
Came the great soldan
In his sedan
Floating his fan-
Saw what the sly
Shadow's cocoon
In the barracoon
Held. Out they fly
"This melon
Sir Mammon
Comes out of Babylon:
By for a patacoon-
Sir, you must buy!"
Said il Magnifico
Pulling a fico -
With a stoccado
And a gambado
Making a wry
Face: "This corraceous
Round orchidaceous
Laceous porraceous
Fruit is a lie!
It is my friend King Pharoah's head
That nodding blew out of the Pyramid..."
The tree's small corinths
Where hard as jacinths
For it is winter and cold winds sigh...
No nightingale
In her farthingale
Of bunched leaves let her singing die