From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
For tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
His toga rumpled high above his knees
And loudly sang off-key without a tone
To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
That metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
Such merchandise a melancholy brings
To break a rule Britannia's might might waive
The fasting fakir doesn't smell the less
A bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
Socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
Where no one bothered how one warmed one's bum
Fried grilled black pudding's still the world's best yum