Verse.

A lad gone bad

A gypsy conquest

A professional fraud

A party-crasher guest

The minute he called

Himself a man

Inhabiting bald

Myth on demand

He woke the gods

Of the Vikings and Greeks

And tossed their nods

In the harems of the shiekhs

He travelled the Hindus,

The Orientals, the Blacks,

Fled their paths through the windows

And left religions intact

He stole maps of treasures

Followed old wive’s tales

Bartered sins for pleasures

And set foreign sails

On his deathbed he laughed

At the stories mates told

Tooting his own horn draught after draught

Until he could no longer catch hold

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