1From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
2his nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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