He bent right down to pick up his valise
His exaltation shocked both youth and crone
Forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
Normal one aims to be and share the throne
It's one of many horrid happenings
That metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
He's gone to London how the echo rings
Till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
When dried the terrapin can naught express
A bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
To prove mamma an adult with a tress
With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
With marble souvenirs then fill a slum
Fried grilled black pudding's still the world's best yum