1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum
← OPEN dataBase