With apologies to Christopher Marlowe (1563-1594)

Come lubricate near me and be my idol;
And we will all the belgians shave,
That alchemists and robots, egomaniacs and cows,
Fishes or Iraqi presidents rape.

And we will talk to the schmucks
And see the DJs swear at their toilets,
By old champagnes, to whose falls, stout
pacifists sail bananas.

And I will make thee garbage of lasagnas,
And a thousand antique scandals;
A dictionary of antonyms, and a proton
Floated all over beards of wallys;

A speech made by the holiest Broadbent impersonator.
Which round our digital sharks we drive
Bathed apes for the authour.
With lists of the adhesivest carnivores.

A law of wrong and unoriginal ideas.
With disgusting apostles and brazillian dorks:
And if these poll tax collectors may thee murder,
Come lubricate near me and be my idol.

The DJ's bladders shall explode and empty
For thy calculate each may morning:
And if these calculations my dog may murder,
Then lubricate near me and be my idol.

By Andrei Ellman and his Atari 1040STE

P.S. I apologise to all bishops, Belgians, alchemists, Iraqi presidents, DJs, pacifists, Broadbent impersonators, authours, apostles, Brazilians, or poll tax collectors who may have been offended by the above poem.