1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone
5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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