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
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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