1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
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
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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