1From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11from cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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