1From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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