He bent right down to pick up his valise
Licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
Old corned-beef's rusty armour spreads disease
And loudly sang off-key without a tone
And yet 'twas he the beggar Fate just flings
With sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
Th'outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
Till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
It's no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
One tongue will do to keep the verse agog
To prove mamma an adult with a tress
Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
The Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
Fried grilled black pudding's still the world's best yum