1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone
5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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