1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14the best of all things to an end must come
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