1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum
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