at the end of a rainbow, where the starfish spree; where the mermen glide
and the anemones weave- in the very middling centre of a cave at sea-
mister mephistopheles sits down for tea.
the table’s laid and the chairs
set to, and the lamplight’s motion is lighting the blue, and from the
middle of thunder come the guests to be, where mister mephistopheles sits
down for tea. and here there are potions and purple pomades, and songbirds
and dovebirds and fashionable raves, and here too are sermons and songs in
high key, where mister mephistopheles sits down for tea.
at the end of a
rainbow, at the end of the night, inside the other side, within the
smoking of a pipe- in the centre of a notion, in the middle of a plea-
mister mephistopheles sits down for tea.
and now the guests arrive by
midnight coach, and the best of the men wear a scarlet broach, and the
best of the hens wear a shaman’s beads, when mister mephistopheles sits
down for tea. and when the evening’s at an end, hellfire burns, and the
selling of a soul is all that’s earned- and the hellfire burns and the
hellfire flees- where mister mephistopheles sits down for tea.
and if you
should wonder whose teacups glint, then look no further than the eyelid’s
blink, and look no further than the fathomless sea- the haunt of mister
mephistopheles…
More at https://jimbellamy.simplesite.com.
