1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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