1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2his nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?
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