1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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