The acid tongue with gourmet's expertise
His exaltation shocked both youth and crone
The Turks said just take anything you please
One gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
That metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
Proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
To break a rule Britannia's might might waive
Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
With gravity at gravity's great cog
While homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
Bard I adore your endless monologue
The Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
For Europe's glory while Fate's harpies strum