1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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