From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
When masons clutch the breath we held on loan
The understanding critic firstly sees
While sharks to let's say potted shrimps are prone
O Parthenon you hold the charger's strings
The North Wind Bites into his architrave
He's gone to London how the echo rings
For burning bushes never fish forgave
It's no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
With quill white-collared through his life will jog
The colonel's still escutcheoned in undress
One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
Though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
yet from the City's pie pulled not one plum