The acid tongue with gourmet's expertise
Since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
Her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
The thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
The roundabout eats profits made on swings
That metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
Proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
The nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
The peasants's skirts on rainy days she'd tress
A bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
Watching manure and compost coalesce
Southern baroque's seductive dialogue
Though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
They're kings we're mammal-cousins hi ho hum