1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone

5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive

9The genealogist with field and fess
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress

12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum