1When one with t’other straightaway agrees
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave

9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes

12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14the best of all things to an end must come