The acid tongue with gourmet's expertise
The bull's horns ought to dry it like a bone
Old corned-beef's rusty armour spreads disease
And loudly sang off-key without a tone
They both are right not untamed mutterings
Rejecting ermine to become a knave
Th'outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
To break a rule Britannia's might might waive
When dried the terrapin can naught express
With gravity at gravity's great cog
Poor Yorick comes to bury not address
Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
Ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
yet from the City's pie pulled not one plum