The acid tongue with gourmet's expertise
That horders of crooks felt they'd more right to own
The Turks said just take anything you please
And loudly sang off-key without a tone
To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
Rejecting ermine to become a knave
Th'outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
Victorious worms grind all into the grave
The genealogist with field and fess
In indian summers Englishmen drink grog
From cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
Where no one bothered how one warmed one's bum
yet from the City's pie pulled not one plum