When one with t'other straightaway agrees
Licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
His toga rumpled high above his knees
'Ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
Were pots graffiti'd over by a slave
A daring baron pockets precious Mings
That every verbal shock aims to deprave
Platonic Greece was not so talentless
A piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
The country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
The Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
The best of all things to an end must come