The acid tongue with gourmet's expertise
His exaltation shocked both youth and crone
His toga rumpled high above his knees
One gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
Were pots graffiti'd over by a slave
He's gone to London how the echo rings
For burning bushes never fish forgave
When dried the terrapin can naught express
What things we did we went the whole darned hog
On wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
Bard I adore your endless monologue
Though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
Fried grilled black pudding's still the world's best yum