1When one with t’other straightaway agrees
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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