1When one with t’other straightaway agrees
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone

5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave

9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11watching manure and compost coalesce

12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14the best of all things to an end must come