From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
The bull's horns ought to dry it like a bone
Forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
With cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
The roundabout eats profits made on swings
Whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
He's gone to London how the echo rings
Victorious worms grind all into the grave
It's no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
Shallots and sharks'fins face the smould'ring log
To prove mamma an adult with a tress
Bard I adore your endless monologue
Where no one bothered how one warmed one's bum
Soliloquies predict great things old chum