1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12Southern baroque’s seductive dialogue
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14the bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum
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