1From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6filching the lolly country thrift helped save
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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