1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum
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