1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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