1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?
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