1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14the bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum
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