1When one with t’other straightaway agrees
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave

9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress

12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14the best of all things to an end must come