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
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14the bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum
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