1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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