He bent right down to pick up his valise
For tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
Forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
'Ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
The roundabout eats profits made on swings
With sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
A daring baron pockets precious Mings
That every verbal shock aims to deprave
Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can't depress
With quill white-collared through his life will jog
To prove mamma an adult with a tress
No need to cart such treasures from the fog
On fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
And lessors' dates have all too short a sum