1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
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 genealogist with field and fess
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum
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