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
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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