He bent right down to pick up his valise
Since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
Upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
Which neither time nor tide can long postpone
The roundabout eats profits made on swings
Nought can the mouse's timid nibbling stave
They both are right not unformed smatterings
The nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
The peasants's skirts on rainy days she'd tress
What things we did we went the whole darned hog
Socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
Ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
For Europe's glory while Fate's harpies strum