He bent right down to pick up his valise
His exaltation shocked both youth and crone
The showman gargles fire and sword with ease
And empty cages show life's bird has flown
Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
When flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
An icicle of frozen marrow pings
Victorious worms grind all into the grave
Platonic Greece was not so talentless
A piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
To prove mamma an adult with a tress
Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
Suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
Fried grilled black pudding's still the world's best yum