From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
The bull's horns ought to dry it like a bone
His toga rumpled high above his knees
And loudly sang off-key without a tone
To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
Nought can the mouse's timid nibbling stave
The learning linguist cameramaniac sings
As sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
The genealogist with field and fess
And starve the sniveling baby like a dog
Watching manure and compost coalesce
We'll suffocate before the epilogue
Suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
yet from the City's pie pulled not one plum