Laziest knave, the veriest churl
Razed, hazy, two nickels short of a dime, see
lost track of the time, see
Not big, tee-nincey. [tiny]*
Can’t move for all the world

Yoohoo, lubber.
sated satyr.
Porridge-bellied,
round as a tater.

A barefoot friar lost in the abbey
torpid tugger
on the rope of a bell with no clapper

Idle of the king
who made you,
calls you

Finds you
Wandring the halls
waiting to be raised
Til then staying laid.

What do you have to say?

Only this:
A hunk of fatback flavoring stew.
Stays, it doesn’t move.
But it’s used.