1When one with t’other straightaway agrees
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?
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