From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
That horders of crooks felt they'd more right to own
He bent right down and well what did he seize
And loudly sang off-key without a tone
Old Galileo's Pisan offerings
Nought can the mouse's timid nibbling stave
An icicle of frozen marrow pings
Victorious worms grind all into the grave
The peasants's skirts on rainy days she'd tress
With gravity at gravity's great cog
Poor Yorick comes to bury not address
One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
With marble souvenirs then fill a slum
A wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb