The acid tongue with gourmet's expertise
Through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
The showman gargles fire and sword with ease
Normal one aims to be and share the throne
And yet 'twas he the beggar Fate just flings
That metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
An icicle of frozen marrow pings
In purest cradels tha's how they behave
When dried the terrapin can naught express
Or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
Watching manure and compost coalesce
No need to cart such treasures from the fog
And let you off from your opinions glum
They're kings we're mammal-cousins hi ho hum