1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5Old Galileo’s Pisan offerings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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