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
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11from cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
12Southern baroque’s seductive dialogue
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
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