1From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?
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