He bent right down to pick up his valise
His exaltation shocked both youth and crone
The Turks said just take anything you please
And empty cages show life's bird has flown
To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
Rejecting ermine to become a knave
The fertile mother changelings drops like kings
Till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
It's no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
A piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
On wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
We'll suffocate before the epilogue
The Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
Fried grilled black pudding's still the world's best yum