He bent right down to pick up his valise
Licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
Her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
And empty cages show life's bird has flown
It's one of many horrid happenings
Signalling gauchos very rarely shave
Th'outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
As sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
The peasants's skirts on rainy days she'd tress
With gravity at gravity's great cog
Watching manure and compost coalesce
Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
And let you off from your opinions glum
yet from the City's pie pulled not one plum