1When one with t’other straightaway agrees
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11from cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?
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