1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
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