1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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