To the gifts and the talents in the passing of ages to Top the exit with joint on the pleasant,
To feather of boa a strict order by grown the Sky on the rain with clouds for the grain,
In the bough of the left there is right on the stage etched for the Aero on nautical lays,
Charge to the not bothered for the light is of plane, shining to lamps on the posts of the lane.
Provisions to boats the Sip of ships boots A Clubhouse for portion on the ladle in chutes,
Toward to the talkers the dead come to rock For all in about is the burning of route.
Raid the lister with a couple of Century terms clam to the puck in the galactic perm,
Curls for Solar the radiant cave in prisons of snot the Nose is okay,
Eyebrows for striping to color back in Or the makeup that doesn’t make-up anything ‘cause a sin,
Pain in the belly that ache for the fudge Cramping the anal retentive for shrugged,
Spark in the fire ask a log from tree punned will you just burn or sud-up the sung,
Like the hissing and spiting that wet timber speaks as the flames go to crackle a bigger in leap!!
Crown upon the shoulder for the colder get chills The Geese in the form of the Fluff over born,
Card to the post a good ole sing strong do not forget that a coin is important for the tattle of skit,
Shallow tongues art language the Needle in sew that thread of the shield as the lips pocket grow,
Those bugs that fill form intestinal shown creeping and crawling laying eggs of just stones,
The incredible cocoon in the belch of the lung inhale the anchor it comes from above,
Step carefully through the death of the pew As in the bent knee it’s the joint of the shoe,
To keep at the oddity of sunken for grave yet in the big picture it’s a curtain in raised,
From instant to lightening the Thunder of scold the breadth of the park is Rome by the bowl,
The Catholic work Pope without a singing reverse Wearing the clogs as the slippers of hurts.
Robbing more into the grace off a charge lifting with one stance smashing the paunch,
To grind in the scortch to the formal of priest is the recognition of the balance of reap,
Christians in the United States are found proud so the Row^Men rise in the pontiff by louds.
Gigantic chorus to execute proviso the Exorcism done in backdoor hotels,
With each of the findings the level field is blown with dynamite Christmas and children’s dead bones.
`When I was a young lad,
My fortune was bad,
If e`er I do well 'tis a wonder.
I spent all my means
Amid sharpers and queans ;
Then I got a commission to plunder.
I have stockings 'tis true,
But the devil a shoe,
I am forced to wear boots in all weather,
Be d--d the boot sole,
Curse on the spur-roll,
Confounded be the upper-leather.'"*
* Such a song, or something very like it, may be found in Ramsay's Tea-Table Miscellany, among the wild slips of minstrelsy which are there collected.
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