No Longer To Serve A Sow Poem by John Sensele

Forty years for a tasteless cup of tea
Served to sway rodent reserves
Concealed from the seal of me
Whose eye in a die conserves

A hot shot for a cold cot
In which I weep or sleep no more
Because tots of noughts on the dot
Ain't nothing but a bore at the core

Where busts of trust on a crust
Glides, resides, chides, sides, slides and rides
With folks whose fork, cork and pork rust
Due to queue, pew or screw parades

As paragon of perseverance and persistence that once
Warmed my world but not now
Lie in a sty as an ounce
Decides no longer to serve a sow.