1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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