1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2his nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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