1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone

5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave

9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address

12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14the bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum