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
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave

9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11from cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness

12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum