1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive
9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12Southern baroque’s seductive dialogue
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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