Blithe sailors who heed not the breezes
Which play round their riggings and spars,
Lithe gymnasts who live on trapezes
And parallel bars.
In ballrooms of plantain and mango
They scamper, they slither and slide
In the throes of a tropical tango,
In the grip of a Gibbony glide;
'Tis thus in these desolate spaces,
Away from humanity's ken,