1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2his nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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