1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone

5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave

9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address

12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?