1When one with t’other straightaway agrees
2his nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?
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