The acid tongue with gourmet's expertise
The answer is they could be twins full-grown
Forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
'Ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
How it suprised us pale grey underlings
That metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
The fertile mother changelings drops like kings
Victorious worms grind all into the grave
When dried the terrapin can naught express
A piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
And played their mountain croquet jungle chess
Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
Poor reader smile before your lips go numb
For Europe's glory while Fate's harpies strum