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 roundabout eats profits made on swings
6filching the lolly country thrift helped save
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive

9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess

12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum