From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
That horders of crooks felt they'd more right to own
His toga rumpled high above his knees
That suede ferments is not at all well known
O Parthenon you hold the charger's strings
Rejecting ermine to become a knave
In salads all chew grubs before they've wings
Till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
When dried the terrapin can naught express
With quill white-collared through his life will jog
From cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
Suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
In cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?