1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
14the best of all things to an end must come
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