1When one with t’other straightaway agrees
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum
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