He bent right down to pick up his valise
His nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
He bent right down and well what did he seize
And empty cages show life's bird has flown
And yet 'twas he the beggar Fate just flings
Signalling gauchos very rarely shave
Such merchandise a melancholy brings
Till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
The peasants's skirts on rainy days she'd tress
Or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
While homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
Where no one bothered how one warmed one's bum
In cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?