1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2his nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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