1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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