1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
← OPEN dataBase