Tramp called for freedom, slipping a cane, headed for Walworth, South London, not forlorn. Not for lorn, for learned, spinning a cane– a cane, mind you, not cocaine,
Perhaps Brisbane.
In Brisbane, without cocaine, without slut thereby, there came a free sailor, who hadn’t seen a tailor, nor needed one, thereby,
Tramp need a camera, a snap shot, a spark! Need a lively cameo– good heavens no camo, flauge that is, to link to the sky, reverse lightning, if that’s called for,
Cocaine shorn,
Vocation.
Spam of Human Affection 
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