1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone

5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave

9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address

12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb