The acid tongue with gourmet's expertise
The answer is they could be twins full-grown
He bent right down and well what did he seize
The thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
It's one of many horrid happenings
Were pots graffiti'd over by a slave
An icicle of frozen marrow pings
Victorious worms grind all into the grave
It's no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
One tongue will do to keep the verse agog
The country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
No need to cart such treasures from the fog
Where no one bothered how one warmed one's bum
The best of all things to an end must come