1When one with t’other straightaway agrees
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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