1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14the best of all things to an end must come
← OPEN dataBase