1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone

5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave

9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress

12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum