1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5Old Galileo’s Pisan offerings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14the bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum
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