1From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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