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
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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