1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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