1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone
5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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