From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
When masons clutch the breath we held on loan
His toga rumpled high above his knees
The thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
Filching the lolly country thrift helped save
He's gone to London how the echo rings
Till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
The fasting fakir doesn't smell the less
One tongue will do to keep the verse agog
Watching manure and compost coalesce
Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
Poor reader smile before your lips go numb
In cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?