1When one with t’other straightaway agrees
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12Southern baroque’s seductive dialogue
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum
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