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
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6filching the lolly country thrift helped save
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
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