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
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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