1From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
← OPEN dataBase