My Own Jingle Bones

Look not to the dire end when we atone
'neath the depression of the wormy home
Beauty flees? Yet does it now?
When my brined rot pushes out to bristly marrow!
What is the pretty maiden but a candle wick
pointing down a lovely path lively & hobble dread
when the chivalry departs to backgroans,
blood channel stream dry when candle drowns.
I forbid those eyes to wet from woe!
The date has come and the tune begins with jingle bones!

You hear the creek of bubblin' marrow,
music starts, dark summons, "come hither jingle bones!"
The challenge of age ends stark row.
benumbing mourn fighting the jingle bones.
A fist want lift as graven arms push motion,
rather rest in agony, the law of undelayed stub-born.
Too long in tooth & hair wildly grows
settled inside unclaimed summon: the jingle bones

Every step towards a chaining inevitable
cov'rd in dirt, serene boughing, faded glow
To me, there is scaffold folded over,
naught but the clank of what time has sewn.
The dullards mein blood now iced, O!

You pride and joy jingle song.
You garland scampering monk
So long, so quiet, now loud in seating.
In broquet passing to yours truly.
I search, I listen, search, fret, ponder, wonder. Ah!
Here comes my own jingle bones!

Delivering head measure & back crook treasure
when the way was long you ???????
What? 2 in a row? This is a final field of shade
which, you care, oh yes, oh yes I gratefully throw
my oceans of polled misfortunes to you!
Your double snap passion of vaunted elderly fashion, oh!
Shackles are dropping from my ankles.
Youth slides into a backdoor cliff dump
I settle into a set as my angled spine humps.