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• Artiste: Paul Roland
• Titre: Builder Of Follys
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A builder of Follys set out to astoud With a network of tunnels and rooms underground, He had the carpets rolled up and the floorboards away, And his workmen were digging by night and by day. Rubble and topsoil they piled in the hall, The servants knew not what to make of it all, Molehills of dark earth appeared on the lawn, With an interminable racket from midnight 'til dawn. He descended by lift at the foot of the stairs, Conveyed thence by rail in a converted bathchair, To a hallway which stretched two thirds of a mile, And a dozen fine bedrooms in the Italian stilye. He had a Regency ballroom to tempt the smart set, Bathed in the blue of one hundred gas jets, He invited all those he considered his friends To a Grand Opening Ball, but no one would attend.