KERMESSE
You mount this fine painted stud
and I'll try that boar over there
as for falling off and into the mud
your Mom has said clearly: Beware!
Swinging at chains in midair
and both we stretch our arms
two birds suspending the fair
riding on magic and charms.
Look into the House of Mirrors
take a drink in the Dancing Hall
for the Moustached Lady on Pillows
you are still a trifle too small.
Bless me, our coppers fade fast
where is the ice cream-seller
this guinea must be our last
and not for the fortune-teller.
See, the sun's already sunk
give me your hand and take mine
it seems your father is drunk
with childhoods sweet wine.