From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
Through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
His toga rumpled high above his knees
With cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
O Parthenon you hold the charger's strings
Nought can the mouse's timid nibbling stave
The fertile mother changelings drops like kings
As sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
Platonic Greece was not so talentless
A bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
The country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
Though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
For Europe's glory while Fate's harpies strum