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
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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