1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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