1From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum
← OPEN dataBase