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
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave
9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?
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