Strike the spark,
From the top of the tip of the dark,
Sprinkle a dusty light in the night,
On the rocks of the trip of the clocks.
Pick up the pocket of puppet,
Hang up the goose with your gloves when you pluck it,
Swiftly fall the phantom’s frail feather,
As fingers tingle on patchwork leather.
Fold the floppy flood flannel,
Upside down on the choppy cold channel,
Tie the bow on the bobbing blue boat,
Around the neck of the greedy grey stoat.
Swing the cast iron club like a stick,
From the back of a lorry of brick,
Ignore all fine frilly flattery,
Place in the bottle a battery.