1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
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