1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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