1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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