The acid tongue with gourmet's expertise
Since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
Old corned-beef's rusty armour spreads disease
Which neither time nor tide can long postpone
The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
The North Wind Bites into his architrave
Such merchandise a melancholy brings
In purest cradels tha's how they behave
It's no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
With gravity at gravity's great cog
Poor Yorick comes to bury not address
We'll suffocate before the epilogue
Do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
yet from the City's pie pulled not one plum