Sneaking in the dead of day,
stealing all my stuff away.
Trusting to black luck and truck
with a driver prone to stray.
Footage of your depredations
shall be broadcast to all nations --
as with Cain your name is muck.
The poet's life is quiet;
aloof yet quite serene.
His manner of greeting
is hearty, but fleeting.
And won't include treating --
for he hasn't got a bean.
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