1From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
2his nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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