1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14the best of all things to an end must come
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