When one with t'other straightaway agrees
The answer is they could be twins full-grown
Forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
With cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
That metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
In salads all chew grubs before they've wings
Victorious worms grind all into the grave
Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
A piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
While homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
No need to cart such treasures from the fog
Poor reader smile before your lips go numb
Fried grilled black pudding's still the world's best yum