From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
For tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
Old corned-beef's rusty armour spreads disease
While sharks to let's say potted shrimps are prone
O Parthenon you hold the charger's strings
Were pots graffiti'd over by a slave
Such merchandise a melancholy brings
Till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
The fasting fakir doesn't smell the less
With gravity at gravity's great cog
To prove mamma an adult with a tress
Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
On fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
The best of all things to an end must come