1When one with t’other straightaway agrees
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12Southern baroque’s seductive dialogue
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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