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
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone
5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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