1From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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