1From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3replies like this the dumbstruck brain may tease
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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