1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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