He bent right down to pick up his valise
Through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
Old corned-beef's rusty armour spreads disease
One gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
And yet 'twas he the beggar Fate just flings
With sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
In salads all chew grubs before they've wings
As sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
The peasants's skirts on rainy days she'd tress
A piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
Socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
Bard I adore your endless monologue
On fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
They're kings we're mammal-cousins hi ho hum