He bent right down to pick up his valise
The bull's horns ought to dry it like a bone
He bent right down and well what did he seize
And loudly sang off-key without a tone
O Parthenon you hold the charger's strings
With sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
A daring baron pockets precious Mings
Victorious worms grind all into the grave
Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
A bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
From cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
And let you off from your opinions glum
And lessors' dates have all too short a sum