1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum
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