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
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive
9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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