Ahimsa is its own Parasuram

I grieve not for my Love's Dis or fall from Grace

Nor my, cuckold, much cackled, loss of face

But for our son's shikha by which we'd seized

 Fortuna's forelock, till I no longer pleased. 

To be a Brahmin's wife seems a little thing

So paltry the wage for which udgatrs sing

Fucking the enemy can do what harm?

Ahimsa is its own Parasuram.

Envoi-

Midons! Geriatric your new modelling career

Orphaned of every anchor held you dear.