The acid tongue with gourmet's expertise
The bull's horns ought to dry it like a bone
His toga rumpled high above his knees
'Ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
How it suprised us pale grey underlings
Were pots graffiti'd over by a slave
Proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
Till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can't depress
Or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
The colonel's still escutcheoned in undress
No need to cart such treasures from the fog
With marble souvenirs then fill a slum
In cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?