1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive

9The genealogist with field and fess
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11watching manure and compost coalesce

12Southern baroque’s seductive dialogue
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14the bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum