1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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