1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
14the best of all things to an end must come
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