1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum
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