1From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?
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