1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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