1From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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