He bent right down to pick up his valise
For tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
He bent right down and well what did he seize
That suede ferments is not at all well known
The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
When flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
Proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
Till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
When dried the terrapin can naught express
A piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
The country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
The Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
And lessors' dates have all too short a sum