1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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