1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2his nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone

5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave

9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress

12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?