1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12Southern baroque’s seductive dialogue
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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