1When one with t’other straightaway agrees
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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