He bent right down to pick up his valise
Licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
Upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
One gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
They both are right not untamed mutterings
Signalling gauchos very rarely shave
Proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
Thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
Or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
On wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
On fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
The best of all things to an end must come