1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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