1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4normal one aims to be and share the throne
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11from cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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