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
Normal one aims to be and share the throne
They both are right not untamed mutterings
Were pots graffiti'd over by a slave
A daring baron pockets precious Mings
As sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
When dried the terrapin can naught express
What things we did we went the whole darned hog
From cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
Suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
Fried grilled black pudding's still the world's best yum