1From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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