1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5Old Galileo’s Pisan offerings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11from cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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