1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2his nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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