1When one with t’other straightaway agrees
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4normal one aims to be and share the throne
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum
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