1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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