1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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