He bent right down to pick up his valise Through snobbish growing round her hemline zone The understanding critic firstly sees And empty cages show lif'e bird has flown How it surprised us pale grey underlings Whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave Proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings Through homestead hillside woodland rock and cave The peasant's skirts on rainy days she'd tress Or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog Watching manure and compost coalesce Lobsters for sale must be our apologue On fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum In cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?