1When one with t’other straightaway agrees
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?
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