1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7the learning linguist cameramaniac sings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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