1When one with t’other straightaway agrees
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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