1When one with t’other straightaway agrees
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5Old Galileo’s Pisan offerings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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