1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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