From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
That horders of crooks felt they'd more right to own
His toga rumpled high above his knees
And loudly sang off-key without a tone
The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
Signalling gauchos very rarely shave
He's gone to London how the echo rings
Thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
It's no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
One tongue will do to keep the verse agog
Socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
We'll suffocate before the epilogue
With marble souvenirs then fill a slum
A wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb