To Salamander The Mugwump

O Beautiful, magical Salamander!

Every day on the calendar

You keep yourself nice and snug and warm,

Away from the rain and heavy storms

By living in the roaring fire

Dreaming of your heart's desire

Or a vampire

- or something you'd quite like,

or something you wouldn't mind having, on the whole, in a way, sort of.

In incendiary glory there you stay,

Like a statue in a studio or the bridge o'er the river Tay,

Sending your messages on their way.

Unless you're a kind of newt.

Friends might call you Sal or Manda

Or speak of your literary-critical candour

But your duty

Is to be above all that,

To be

The incarnation of Heavenly Beauty

Even if you're a newt

With a mugwump inside, observing all,

From servant's quarters to dining hall,

making up secret thoughts on science

And anything else that troubles your conscience

Great Mugwump Sal

Great wondrous, magical Salamander

All a poor poetic genius can do

Is lay this masterpiece at the feet of you

And make you by the power of Art even grander

O Salamander.

- even if you're a newt.

(and if you are I bet you're a Heaven-sent beauteous one)