1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?
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