1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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