1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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