1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4normal one aims to be and share the throne
5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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