That man from Stamboul said
You took my wealth, my health.
He harangued thus to old tool

In a privacy of unzipped pants
In clackety clackety of old train
As his bushes went one by one.

But no one heard him say that,
Nor wannabe war book writer
Nor the fool in unzipped pants.

It is just old tool unable to pee
Under a pressure of a prostate
That is empty in its old wealth .

(Coming upon a hilarious Limerick in Kurt Vunnegut’s engaging novel Slaughterhouse-five )