That man from Stamboul cried
You took my wealth, my health.
He harangued thus to old tool
In a privacy of unzipped pants
In clackety clackety of old train
As his bushes went one by one.
He was fool in unzipped pants.
His was an old tool hard to pee
Under the pressure of a prostate
That is emptied of its old wealth .
(Coming upon a hilarious Limerick in Kurt Vunnegut’s engaging novel Slaughterhouse-five )