1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4that suede ferments is not at all well known

5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive

9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess

12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb