1From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
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