1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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