He bent right down to pick up his valise
Since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
The understanding critic firstly sees
One gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
Old Galileo's Pisan offerings
The North Wind Bites into his architrave
In salads all chew grubs before they've wings
The nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
The peasants's skirts on rainy days she'd tress
In indian summers Englishmen drink grog
Poor Yorick comes to bury not address
Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
Suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
yet from the City's pie pulled not one plum