Poem – The Whale 

The Whale that wanders round the Pole

Is not a table fish.

You cannot bake or boil him whole

Nor serve him in a dish;
But you may cut his blubber up

And melt it down for oil.

And so replace the colza bean

(A product of the soil).
These facts should all be noted down

And ruminated on,

By every boy in Oxford town
Who wants to be a Don. 

Poem – The Vulture

The Vulture eats between his meals,

And that’s the reason why

He very, very, rarely feels

As well as you and I.

His eye is dull, his head is bald,

His neck is growing thinner.

Oh! what a lesson for us all

To only eat at dinner!