1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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