From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
His exaltation shocked both youth and crone
His toga rumpled high above his knees
One gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
The roundabout eats profits made on swings
The North Wind Bites into his architrave
He's gone to London how the echo rings
In purest cradels tha's how they behave
The peasants's skirts on rainy days she'd tress
A bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
The colonel's still escutcheoned in undress
No need to cart such treasures from the fog
The Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
A wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb