1When one with t’other straightaway agrees
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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