1When one with t’other straightaway agrees
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6filching the lolly country thrift helped save
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14the bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum
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