He bent right down to pick up his valise
The bull's horns ought to dry it like a bone
Old corned-beef's rusty armour spreads disease
And loudly sang off-key without a tone
How it suprised us pale grey underlings
The North Wind Bites into his architrave
A daring baron pockets precious Mings
That every verbal shock aims to deprave
The genealogist with field and fess
What things we did we went the whole darned hog
Socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
With marble souvenirs then fill a slum
And lessors' dates have all too short a sum