Well strike me dumb ! Despite my warnings dire
And Néa's verbal lamming of the chap
Young Inkspot hath cross'd first the blessèd wire
And wrought himself a vict'ry free from hap.
Pure skilful play; A coup de grâce serene
Hath brought him to this situation pleasant
Such moves delight the audience unseen
Who echo, scream and shout "Mornington Crescent" !
And so the game is done; And though 'tis hard
We must bid fond adieu unto the Bard