From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
Through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
Her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
With cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
Old Galileo's Pisan offerings
Were pots graffiti'd over by a slave
They both are right not unformed smatterings
That every verbal shock aims to deprave
The fasting fakir doesn't smell the less
In indian summers Englishmen drink grog
While homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
No need to cart such treasures from the fog
The Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
Fried grilled black pudding's still the world's best yum