1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
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
12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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