1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11from cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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