Happy now this Higgins
with his natural bristle head
zoom brooms for legs
lunch-gut in his belly pantry
ah, happy melting in his crumby lunacy
They said Higgins tastes freedom today
must be more a space issue, well well
and the hall looks funny with him
wearing it as a big shoe
looking silly in his stomp clomp and preening
Higgins will grin at me leaving
his passing whisk a scent of his fate
oh, I will hate to be the first to say it,
Higgins is nailed and glued down here
his leaving just a dying passing fancy
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem