He bent right down to pick up his valise
His nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
Old corned-beef's rusty armour spreads disease
And loudly sang off-key without a tone
Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
Rejecting ermine to become a knave
Such merchandise a melancholy brings
The nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
With quill white-collared through his life will jog
On wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
But I can understand you Brogher Gog
Where no one bothered how one warmed one's bum
The bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum