The acid tongue with gourmet's expertise
That horders of crooks felt they'd more right to own
Old corned-beef's rusty armour spreads disease
And empty cages show life's bird has flown
They both are right not untamed mutterings
With sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
An icicle of frozen marrow pings
That every verbal shock aims to deprave
The fasting fakir doesn't smell the less
What things we did we went the whole darned hog
The country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
Bard I adore your endless monologue
Suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
For Europe's glory while Fate's harpies strum