1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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