The women come and go.

But talk not of Michaelangelo.

One drunk on booze

Leaves her stiletto shoes

Behind  for Prufrock to find.

 

No mermaids sing for him.

But the girl was slim

And provided some delight

To a poet’s night.

 

 

When he turns to write

He finds that Miss Follett

Has taken his wallet,

And ponders on the Wasteland

Which a few understand!