The loss will be entirely ours,
to lose such a gallant poet,
Tell us not of the vexations caused,
think of us
who shall miss you most

You and I have been bombarded daily
But I don't damn care,
for the sound of music I create
with all I do share
and
Some grunt, many laugh,
Others shunt:

Never mind the worse forms of human beings,
else these words
Grunt, shunt and laugh,
will be buried at once

Do stay for the love of those,
who love you most,
but then your decision ,
I still, as always, regard as uppermost.