He bent right down to pick up his valise
Through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
His toga rumpled high above his knees
That suede ferments is not at all well known
The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
Nought can the mouse's timid nibbling stave
Th'outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
Victorious worms grind all into the grave
It's no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
With quill white-collared through his life will jog
On wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
Ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
A wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb