From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
That horders of crooks felt they'd more right to own
Old corned-beef's rusty armour spreads disease
With cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
Whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
The fertile mother changelings drops like kings
To break a rule Britannia's might might waive
When dried the terrapin can naught express
In indian summers Englishmen drink grog
On wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
Suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
They're kings we're mammal-cousins hi ho hum