“So
we’ll go no more a-lekking,”
bubbled
some cichlids.
“Lake
Victoria’s receding
beneath
a sandy lid.”
“Who
gives a thought to lekking,”
Victoria
snapped back,
“when
the sun your castles hardens
into
boils on my back?”
“So
we’ll go no more a-lekking,”
explained
the CEO,
“for
they’ve frozen up my checking
and
I cannot buy you blow.”
“If
we’ve finished with a-lekking
then
I withdraw my hand;
without
your bank deposits,
I
don’t want your wedding band.”
“So
we’ll go no more a-lekking,”
said
the penguin to his mate,
“because
we penguins mate for life
and
you seem adequate.”
“So
I’ll go no more a-lekking,”
bugled
mournfully the buck.
“Though
I’m still extremely horny,
there’s
just no one left.”
“So
we’ve been no more a-lekking,
exposed
these dreary thousand years.
The
rainy forum’s empty
and
we statues waste our tears.”
(from the French of René Crevel
from the English of Lord Byron)
