From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
The answer is they could be twins full-grown
Upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
Normal one aims to be and share the throne
They both are right not untamed mutterings
That metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
Such merchandise a melancholy brings
To break a rule Britannia's might might waive
The fasting fakir doesn't smell the less
One tongue will do to keep the verse agog
Poor Yorick comes to bury not address
Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
And let you off from your opinions glum
They're kings we're mammal-cousins hi ho hum