1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum
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