1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14the bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum
← OPEN dataBase