1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?
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