He bent right down to pick up his valise
The answer is they could be twins full-grown
The understanding critic firstly sees
That suede ferments is not at all well known
Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
Filching the lolly country thrift helped save
An icicle of frozen marrow pings
To break a rule Britannia's might might waive
The peasants's skirts on rainy days she'd tress
A piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
While homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
The Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
yet from the City's pie pulled not one plum