1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
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