1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
← OPEN dataBase