From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
That horders of crooks felt they'd more right to own
Her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
Which neither time nor tide can long postpone
It's one of many horrid happenings
Nought can the mouse's timid nibbling stave
He's gone to London how the echo rings
Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
The genealogist with field and fess
In indian summers Englishmen drink grog
To prove mamma an adult with a tress
With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
With marble souvenirs then fill a slum
Soliloquies predict great things old chum