1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone

5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave

9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress

12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14the bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum