He bent right down to pick up his valise
That horders of crooks felt they'd more right to own
His toga rumpled high above his knees
'Ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
How it suprised us pale grey underlings
Were pots graffiti'd over by a slave
An icicle of frozen marrow pings
Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can't depress
One tongue will do to keep the verse agog
While homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
Southern baroque's seductive dialogue
Suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
In cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?