1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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