1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4normal one aims to be and share the throne
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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