1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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