1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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