1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave
9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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