I still recall a buxom Essex seamstress,
Her bosom tight against a Roman wall;
As ever-faithful witnesses of interest,
My madrigals still haunt the lofty halls.
Alas, those days are gone. The doom befell me;
And, though the Time maintains its steady pace,
I'm only after Mice these days, so tell me —
What are they worth? And where's the marketplace?
Это чье?
