The acid tongue with gourmet's expertise
When masons clutch the breath we held on loan
The showman gargles fire and sword with ease
And loudly sang off-key without a tone
They both are right not untamed mutterings
Signalling gauchos very rarely shave
Proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
Till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
When dried the terrapin can naught express
What things we did we went the whole darned hog
Poor Yorick comes to bury not address
Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
Where no one bothered how one warmed one's bum
Fried grilled black pudding's still the world's best yum