1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14the best of all things to an end must come
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