1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14the bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum
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