1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
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
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum
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