From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
His nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
He bent right down and well what did he seize
That suede ferments is not at all well known
The roundabout eats profits made on swings
Rejecting ermine to become a knave
Proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
Thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
One tongue will do to keep the verse agog
While homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
No need to cart such treasures from the fog
Where no one bothered how one warmed one's bum
A wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb