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
'Ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
And yet 'twas he the beggar Fate just flings
With sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
Such merchandise a melancholy brings
That every verbal shock aims to deprave
Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
What things we did we went the whole darned hog
On wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
Bard I adore your endless monologue
Ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
A wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb