From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
Through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
The Turks said just take anything you please
The thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
And yet 'twas he the beggar Fate just flings
Nought can the mouse's timid nibbling stave
An icicle of frozen marrow pings
Till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can't depress
In indian summers Englishmen drink grog
Poor Yorick comes to bury not address
Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
Though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
The best of all things to an end must come