1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum
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