Upon the grubby marble slab, Margarina!
O sickening stodge! O greasy shine!
O "Dairy Produce" miscalled "Fine"!
O haunt of all blue-flies that blow,
There on show, there on show, Margarina!
I fled along that gloomy street, Margarina!
Disgusted, sickened, sad, dead-beat, Margarina!
Yet still I see that dingy slab,
That oleaginous pale, pale dab.
And thou art still on sale I know,