1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone

5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave

9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce

12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum