1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3replies like this the dumbstruck brain may tease
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11from cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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