From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
The bull's horns ought to dry it like a bone
His toga rumpled high above his knees
And empty cages show life's bird has flown
Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
Rejecting ermine to become a knave
They both are right not unformed smatterings
The nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
One tongue will do to keep the verse agog
Watching manure and compost coalesce
No need to cart such treasures from the fog
With marble souvenirs then fill a slum
Fried grilled black pudding's still the world's best yum