When one with t'other straightaway agrees
The bull's horns ought to dry it like a bone
Upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
With cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
They both are right not untamed mutterings
That metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
Proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
Thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
One tongue will do to keep the verse agog
And played their mountain croquet jungle chess
One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
Where no one bothered how one warmed one's bum
The best of all things to an end must come