1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
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