1When one with t’other straightaway agrees
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?
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