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
4normal one aims to be and share the throne
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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