1From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
2his nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
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