1When one with t’other straightaway agrees
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12Southern baroque’s seductive dialogue
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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