Chilly gusts of fanny breeze
And the sting of mosquitoes,
Besides the buzzing of flies,
Barking dogs and tossing boots,
Banging the doors in loud,
As if crushing terrain on tread,
To trample in tens of thousands,
Yet a struggling breath and sleepy eyes,
Wishes to hath few glimpses,
Though unpleasant to behold,
Yet a grit to hold its bay,
Until the warbling larks
And coo do do dil at the dawn,
The veils get unzipped a bit,
Such clumsy environs all around,
In the midst of the lull of the night!
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