1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
← OPEN dataBase