He bent right down to pick up his valise
That horders of crooks felt they'd more right to own
The Turks said just take anything you please
And empty cages show life's bird has flown
Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
The North Wind Bites into his architrave
Th'outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
To break a rule Britannia's might might waive
The genealogist with field and fess
In indian summers Englishmen drink grog
On wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
Where no one bothered how one warmed one's bum
yet from the City's pie pulled not one plum