1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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