1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4that suede ferments is not at all well known

5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave

9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess

12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?