1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone
5Old Galileo’s Pisan offerings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11from cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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