1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
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
7the learning linguist cameramaniac sings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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