1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2his nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4normal one aims to be and share the throne
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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