1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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