He bent right down to pick up his valise
The answer is they could be twins full-grown
He bent right down and well what did he seize
And loudly sang off-key without a tone
Old Galileo's Pisan offerings
Were pots graffiti'd over by a slave
An icicle of frozen marrow pings
Till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
The genealogist with field and fess
A bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
On wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
Though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
The best of all things to an end must come