He bent right down to pick up his valise
The bull's horns ought to dry it like a bone
The understanding critic firstly sees
With cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
Old Galileo's Pisan offerings
Nought can the mouse's timid nibbling stave
In salads all chew grubs before they've wings
Thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
Platonic Greece was not so talentless
A piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
Poor Yorick comes to bury not address
With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
The Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
They're kings we're mammal-cousins hi ho hum