Hark! the raven himself is hoarse
That croaks the entrance of wealthy tourists
Under the of spell of gnu's encampment
Come ye spirits that tend on mortal thoughts,
Oversexed nymphs will gambol there and tho'the direst cruelty
That only tea will pass their fair lips to cause remorse
Let the compuctious visitings of nature
Enhance his swell purpose
And keep peace between the effect and it.