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
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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