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
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
← OPEN dataBase