1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3replies like this the dumbstruck brain may tease
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
← OPEN dataBase