He bent right down to pick up his valise
The answer is they could be twins full-grown
Upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
The thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
Were pots graffiti'd over by a slave
They both are right not unformed smatterings
Till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
Platonic Greece was not so talentless
What things we did we went the whole darned hog
And played their mountain croquet jungle chess
Bard I adore your endless monologue
The Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
The bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum