1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4normal one aims to be and share the throne
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14the best of all things to an end must come
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