1From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4normal one aims to be and share the throne
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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