1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone

5Old Galileo’s Pisan offerings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave

9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce

12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14the bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum