Sick be your Service to her Majesty's earned
As Subject connects to the Predicate
For these Numbered Fathers wring Clocks adjourned
Her firm and footed Heart accumulate
Never has my cloud of such Clouds combined
How her months spent Moons for your Just Return
Which, by Day, tie Knots to her palms by Night
By strafing those Bullets will deflect a Burn
At this Point, the Line where I bid salute
None but the Stars-of-Jack best achieve
That you - Potent Sample - pay resolute
Which the Iron Man will always believe.
Thursday calls. The Crescent good-bids your Glove
To fill your Mission; Yet maintain her Love.