1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3replies like this the dumbstruck brain may tease
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone

5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave

9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes

12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum