God rest that Jewy woman, Queen Jezebel, the bitch Who peeled the clothes from her shoulder-bones Down to her spent teats As she stretched out of the window Among the geraniums, where She chaffed and laughed like one half daft Titivating her painted hair— King Jehu he drove to her, She tipped him a fancy beck; But he from his knacky side-car spoke, "Who'll break that dewlapped neck?" And so she was thrown from the window; Like Lucifer she fell Beneath the feet of the horses and they beat The light out of Jezebel. That corpse wasn't planted in clover; Ah, nothing of her was found Save those grey bones that Hare-foot Mike Gave me for their lovely sound; And as once her dancing body Made star-lit princes sweat, So I'll just clack: though her ghost lacks a back There's music in the old bones yet.