1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
14the best of all things to an end must come
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