1From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4normal one aims to be and share the throne
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum
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