More Veal!

Milk fed as usual!

I was told there would be no Dylan, poetry

 

In my craft or sullen art 

Exercised in the still night 
When only the moon rages 
And the lovers lie abed 
With all their griefs in their arms 
I labour by singing light 
Not for ambition or bread 
Or the strut and trade of charms 
On the ivory stages 
But for the common wages 
Of their most milk fed heart. 

Not for the proud man apart 
From the raging moon I write 
On these spindrift pages 
Nor for the towering dead 
With their nightingales and psalms 
But for the morons, their arms 
Round the griefs of the ages, 
Who pay no praise or wages 
Nor heed my craft as art

introducing Yvonne Craig as Batgirl

This is how you do it!