1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2his nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
12Southern baroque’s seductive dialogue
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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