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
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?
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