1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11from cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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