1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone

5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave

9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess

12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb