He bent right down to pick up his valise
The answer is they could be twins full-grown
Forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
And loudly sang off-key without a tone
And yet 'twas he the beggar Fate just flings
Signalling gauchos very rarely shave
The fertile mother changelings drops like kings
The nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can't depress
And starve the sniveling baby like a dog
Watching manure and compost coalesce
One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
With marble souvenirs then fill a slum
Soliloquies predict great things old chum