1When one with t’other straightaway agrees
2his nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4normal one aims to be and share the throne
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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