1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4normal one aims to be and share the throne
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum
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