He bent right down to pick up his valise
The bull's horns ought to dry it like a bone
Her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
And empty cages show life's bird has flown
How it suprised us pale grey underlings
Signalling gauchos very rarely shave
Th'outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
For burning bushes never fish forgave
The fasting fakir doesn't smell the less
With gravity at gravity's great cog
The colonel's still escutcheoned in undress
With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
With marble souvenirs then fill a slum
For Europe's glory while Fate's harpies strum