Ranelagh is den of anaesthetists
Sniffing fine prosciutto ham in Morton’s halls
Dragging back their English Springer Spaniels when
They follow fox spoor on their shit patrol
Occupying old Edwardiana;
Scooping out front gardens
Gravelling them and there corralling
Shiny tractors with a million horsepower
Even though the roads were built for just the one.
I would like to stop one and consult her
But I can’t afford the fee.