1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14the bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum
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