When one with t'other straightaway agrees
For tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
Her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
And loudly sang off-key without a tone
The roundabout eats profits made on swings
Whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
The fertile mother changelings drops like kings
Till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
Platonic Greece was not so talentless
In indian summers Englishmen drink grog
On wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
Southern baroque's seductive dialogue
The Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
They're kings we're mammal-cousins hi ho hum