Fall flat on your back;
The tigers who tear at your-hair and who swear
As they tread on your neck,
Leaving you battered, bespattered and shattered,
An absolute wreck.
From these sharks,
These mild-looking typists and clerks,
May Heaven defend you. They'll rend you—up-end you
(I carry the marks),
This meek-looking, sleek-looking, weak-looking clique