1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone

5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave

9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes

12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum