1When one with t’other straightaway agrees
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4normal one aims to be and share the throne
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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