1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
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