1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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