1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
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