1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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