He bent right down to pick up his valise
That horders of crooks felt they'd more right to own
Forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
With cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
With sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
Such merchandise a melancholy brings
Till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
When dried the terrapin can naught express
A piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
Watching manure and compost coalesce
But I can understand you Brogher Gog
And let you off from your opinions glum
The bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum