He bent right down to pick up his valise
That horders of crooks felt they'd more right to own
Upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
One gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
It's one of many horrid happenings
That metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
Such merchandise a melancholy brings
Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can't depress
And starve the sniveling baby like a dog
On wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
But I can understand you Brogher Gog
On fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
Fried grilled black pudding's still the world's best yum