1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive
9The genealogist with field and fess
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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