He bent right down to pick up his valise
For tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
The Turks said just take anything you please
'Ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
They both are right not untamed mutterings
Were pots graffiti'd over by a slave
They both are right not unformed smatterings
Victorious worms grind all into the grave
The genealogist with field and fess
With quill white-collared through his life will jog
Watching manure and compost coalesce
Bard I adore your endless monologue
The Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
A wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb