1From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7the learning linguist cameramaniac sings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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