Competition: Eastertide

In Competition No. 2742 you were invited to take as your first line ‘Dear Lord the day of eggs is here…’, which is the opening to Amanda McKittrick Ros’s poem ‘Eastertide’, and continue, in a similarly bad vein, for up to 16 lines.
Described in the Oxford Companion to Irish Literature as ‘uniquely dreadful’, McKittrick Ros, who died in 1939, nonetheless boasted devotees among the literary elite. Aldous Huxley wrote an essay on her extraordinary use of language, highlights of which include ‘globes of glare’ (eyes), ‘bony supports’ (legs) and ‘southern necessary’ (pants). Congratulations, all round. It was a magnificent entry and there are too many honourable mentions to list individually. The winners get £25. Noel Petty nets £30.
 
Dear Lord, the day of eggs is here,
An end to winter’s bitter drear,
When children don their springtime things
And roll their paschal offerings,
The daffodils leap from the mead
And lambkins gambol without heed.
And see! a newcomer appears:
The Easter bunny wags his ears.