He bent right down to pick up his valise
The answer is they could be twins full-grown
Her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
That suede ferments is not at all well known
And yet 'twas he the beggar Fate just flings
The North Wind Bites into his architrave
In salads all chew grubs before they've wings
To break a rule Britannia's might might waive
The peasants's skirts on rainy days she'd tress
And starve the sniveling baby like a dog
From cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
Though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
Soliloquies predict great things old chum