1From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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