1When one with t’other straightaway agrees
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
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
8victorious worms grind all into the grave
9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11from cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14the best of all things to an end must come
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