1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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