The acid tongue with gourmet's expertise
The bull's horns ought to dry it like a bone
Her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
And empty cages show life's bird has flown
To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
Were pots graffiti'd over by a slave
The learning linguist cameramaniac sings
To break a rule Britannia's might might waive
Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
And starve the sniveling baby like a dog
And played their mountain croquet jungle chess
Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
Poor reader smile before your lips go numb
For Europe's glory while Fate's harpies strum