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
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
5Old Galileo’s Pisan offerings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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