1From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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