1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
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