The Hymn of the PierSometimes he smoked his cigaretteBetween the spinnings of roulette Strolling upon the midnight sandsOr creeping down the darkened pierPulling his scarf of soft cashmereOver his icing sugar lips.And sometimes he would softly singOf sea-boys and their pale darlingsSongs learnt in youth of long drowned love.At times led-astray country boysWith glittered mouths and eyes turquoiseWould call to him in tones of want.'Playboy, Playboy, so insincere,How would you like a souvenir?We know you we know you we do.''Sweet ones, sweet ones, how you enticeAn honest man to juicy vice,With belted coats and swaying hips.''Come