1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7the learning linguist cameramaniac sings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14the best of all things to an end must come
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