And now a toast for those who, red with wine
from Côte de Nuits, cankered from the bed,
bellied and belching like a furnace, dined
all night on oysters, figs and braised hog's head
which gleamed in candlelight among the grapes;
who primped their burning skulls with antlers, patched
with plumes their pimpled skin, and swung like apes
from chandeliers until their nightmares hatched,
who now begin to crawl between the dogs,
which sleep with blood and beer in clotted fur,
on hands and knees and neck outstretched to snog
the shaggy gorgeous arse of Lucifer.
Oh Lord I do repent my joy and health
I am not worthy of this plundered wealth.
The Banquet - Michael Joseph