1From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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