1From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
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
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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