1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?
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