1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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