1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14the bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum
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