He bent right down to pick up his valise
Since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
Old corned-beef's rusty armour spreads disease
And loudly sang off-key without a tone
And yet 'twas he the beggar Fate just flings
The North Wind Bites into his architrave
An icicle of frozen marrow pings
In purest cradels tha's how they behave
When dried the terrapin can naught express
Or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
On wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
Poor reader smile before your lips go numb
The bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum