1When one with t’other straightaway agrees
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5Old Galileo’s Pisan offerings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
← OPEN dataBase