When one with t'other straightaway agrees
That horders of crooks felt they'd more right to own
Old corned-beef's rusty armour spreads disease
The thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
Were pots graffiti'd over by a slave
He's gone to London how the echo rings
Thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
Platonic Greece was not so talentless
A piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
Watching manure and compost coalesce
No need to cart such treasures from the fog
Though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
They're kings we're mammal-cousins hi ho hum