1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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