The acid tongue with gourmet's expertise
Through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
Old corned-beef's rusty armour spreads disease
While sharks to let's say potted shrimps are prone
They both are right not untamed mutterings
With sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
Such merchandise a melancholy brings
Thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
Or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
Poor Yorick comes to bury not address
Southern baroque's seductive dialogue
With marble souvenirs then fill a slum
yet from the City's pie pulled not one plum