From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
The answer is they could be twins full-grown
Old corned-beef's rusty armour spreads disease
With cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
Rejecting ermine to become a knave
In salads all chew grubs before they've wings
That every verbal shock aims to deprave
When dried the terrapin can naught express
A bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
Socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
We'll suffocate before the epilogue
Though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
Soliloquies predict great things old chum