Telepathic Phlebotomy
A Potent Mixture of Genever and Sweetest Nectar

adapted from the original by one Baronet David, known to his friends as Man-o’-the-Wolves

Movement the First: as bespoke by the notorious Sleuthhound, and succeeded by his Chorus of Ruffians

In lending thought to all that great discontent with doth blight this fair city with its fine long beach: a’times I, who e’en now wouldst deign to crudely spell his own currish name, find ‘t a great struggle in, to mine own self, being true; ne’er-the-less, against many a tribulation doth my mind continue bespawning so many a saucy inkling with nigh each rising of the eastern sun.  If thou, hearer, wouldst permit me, I would grace mine own fellow rapscallions with a scant little number of lines whilst wafting, zephyrously, past the second hour of the antemeridian for, in absentia mater, this soiree remains jubilant and animated! Inhabiting my abode’s antechamber are such wanton women of ill repute that wouldst engage i’ th’ buggery of each other, ne’er to cease before some four hours hence; zounds! but what action should our like take in reply?  Fill’d is my purse with the means by which my loins may be girded, as are filled those of my compatriots; douse the torches, then, my boys, bar too the doors that we may attend to this great and devilish work! (Howe’er, as harlots they be, th’ heart be not their dwelling-place — lusty they nestle in the liver, where desire burneth!)  Therefore, comrades, burneth we shall as we charge our bowls with th’ herb — ruffians, arise!  Strumpets, to thy knees!  And all those who have knowledge of their matrons, lend an ear!

Carousing in the lanes, partaking o’ th’ pipe, and imbibing a potent mixture of genever and sweetest nectar, in repose as I consider th’ contents of my abundant purse, lo! as my purse doth lay to its claim the totality of mine addled brain!

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