1From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11from cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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