From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
For tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
His toga rumpled high above his knees
With cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
The roundabout eats profits made on swings
Whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
They both are right not unformed smatterings
In purest cradels tha's how they behave
The fasting fakir doesn't smell the less
In indian summers Englishmen drink grog
On wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
Though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
A wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb