1From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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