1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4normal one aims to be and share the throne
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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