1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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