1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2his nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum
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