From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
For tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
He bent right down and well what did he seize
While sharks to let's say potted shrimps are prone
How it suprised us pale grey underlings
Were pots graffiti'd over by a slave
The fertile mother changelings drops like kings
Thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
The peasants's skirts on rainy days she'd tress
In indian summers Englishmen drink grog
From cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
Bard I adore your endless monologue
Though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
yet from the City's pie pulled not one plum