Henry of Donnybrook bred like a pig, <br />bred when he was brittle, bred when big, <br />how he's sweating to support them. <br />Which birthday of the brighter darker man, <br />the Goya of the Globe & Blackfriars, whom— <br />our full earth smiled on him <br /> <br />squeezing his old heart with a daughter loose <br />(hostages they áre)—the world's produced, <br />so far, alarms, alarms. <br />Fancy the chill & fatigue four hundred years <br />award a warm one. All we know is ears. <br />My slab lifts up its arms <br /> <br />in a solicitude entire, too late. <br />Of brutal revelry gap your mouth to state: <br />Front back & backside go bare! <br />Cats' blackness, booze,blows, grunts, grand groans. <br />Yo-bad yõm i-oowaled bo v'ha'l lail awmer h're gawber! <br />—Now, now, poor Bones.<br /><br />John Berryman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/dream-song-97-henry-of-donnybrook-bred-like-a-pi/
