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
The thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
And yet 'twas he the beggar Fate just flings
Whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
Th'outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
That every verbal shock aims to deprave
Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
Or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
And played their mountain croquet jungle chess
Southern baroque's seductive dialogue
Suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
In cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?