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
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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