The acid tongue with gourmet's expertise
The answer is they could be twins full-grown
The showman gargles fire and sword with ease
With cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
The roundabout eats profits made on swings
Whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
They both are right not unformed smatterings
For burning bushes never fish forgave
It's no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
And starve the sniveling baby like a dog
The colonel's still escutcheoned in undress
Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
The Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
A wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb