1When one with t’other straightaway agrees
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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