1When one with t’other straightaway agrees
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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