He bent right down to pick up his valise
For tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
The understanding critic firstly sees
'Ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
Whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
He's gone to London how the echo rings
That every verbal shock aims to deprave
It's no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
One tongue will do to keep the verse agog
The colonel's still escutcheoned in undress
No need to cart such treasures from the fog
Suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
They're kings we're mammal-cousins hi ho hum