1When one with t’other straightaway agrees
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?
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