He bent right down to pick up his valise
That horders of crooks felt they'd more right to own
He bent right down and well what did he seize
One gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
When flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
The learning linguist cameramaniac sings
As sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
In indian summers Englishmen drink grog
Socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
On fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
They're kings we're mammal-cousins hi ho hum