1From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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