From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
That horders of crooks felt they'd more right to own
Upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
And empty cages show life's bird has flown
The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
When flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
An icicle of frozen marrow pings
For burning bushes never fish forgave
It's no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
With quill white-collared through his life will jog
To prove mamma an adult with a tress
With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
Ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
The bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum