1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11from cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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