1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave

9The genealogist with field and fess
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress

12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb