From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
That horders of crooks felt they'd more right to own
The Turks said just take anything you please
While sharks to let's say potted shrimps are prone
The roundabout eats profits made on swings
Nought can the mouse's timid nibbling stave
The fertile mother changelings drops like kings
As sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
It's no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
Or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
The colonel's still escutcheoned in undress
One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
With marble souvenirs then fill a slum
The bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum