1When one with t’other straightaway agrees
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14the best of all things to an end must come
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