1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
14the best of all things to an end must come
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