He bent right down to pick up his valise
That horders of crooks felt they'd more right to own
Old corned-beef's rusty armour spreads disease
Normal one aims to be and share the throne
O Parthenon you hold the charger's strings
Whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
In salads all chew grubs before they've wings
In purest cradels tha's how they behave
Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
A piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
Watching manure and compost coalesce
Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
Do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
Fried grilled black pudding's still the world's best yum