The acid tongue with gourmet's expertise
When masons clutch the breath we held on loan
His toga rumpled high above his knees
And empty cages show life's bird has flown
The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
Signalling gauchos very rarely shave
The fertile mother changelings drops like kings
Till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
Platonic Greece was not so talentless
In indian summers Englishmen drink grog
Poor Yorick comes to bury not address
One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
Do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
And lessors' dates have all too short a sum