1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4normal one aims to be and share the throne
5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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