1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?
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