Chameleon
Were we inclined to criticise,
we'd agree he was dissolute;
indulgent of man's every vice,
in such purpose quite resolute.
Much more a devil than a man
he reeked of brimstone's vapour too;
or was it tobacco's grimy fire
pervaded him through and through ?
His bent for vodka was renowned,
the elbow-action smooth, machined;
and yet, there was another side
revealed by this loose-living fiend.
Picking up his battered guitar,
Chameleon would play for hours.
Heavenly touch was purely his,
while dissolution was all ours ....