When one with t'other straightaway agrees
The answer is they could be twins full-grown
The understanding critic firstly sees
Normal one aims to be and share the throne
And yet 'twas he the beggar Fate just flings
Were pots graffiti'd over by a slave
Such merchandise a melancholy brings
Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
The genealogist with field and fess
And starve the sniveling baby like a dog
The country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
Where no one bothered how one warmed one's bum
They're kings we're mammal-cousins hi ho hum