1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3replies like this the dumbstruck brain may tease
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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