1When one with t’other straightaway agrees
2his nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4normal one aims to be and share the throne
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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