1From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11from cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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