When he was quite satisfied with his handiwork, The Poet opened the toilet window, and then walked quickly from the gents' into the ladies'.

There is gold, and multitude of pearles: but a precious vessel the lips of knowledge.

He hauls in the twenty yards of it in frantic haste, making many a misgrab and getting more excited, I'll warrant, than he ever was with any but his first bear.

Don't forget China, which is Hell on Earth for muzrats.