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
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11from cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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