RINGS A BELL

The bill serves no purpose and me neither for the day
Cut up about the roundabout and zebra crossing
Can be both backward and forward we can be both
In my best English voice down by the River
There are spats and there are splats and there are slats
Poets display an alarming capacity for self-delusion shock horror
Or else point out the bad points add up the acid drops
And other pieces in the shop adds up to what swings
From the writing desk and swigs from the Styx