1From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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