He bent right down to pick up his valise
For tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
The Turks said just take anything you please
With cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
And yet 'twas he the beggar Fate just flings
With sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
They both are right not unformed smatterings
For burning bushes never fish forgave
Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
Shallots and sharks'fins face the smould'ring log
On wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
And let you off from your opinions glum
A wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb