1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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