Original Palindromes Alphabetical

Tiramisu, pot, cod, octopus—I mar it.

Tired is no cost, so consider it.

Tired, no plan, I fret semester Final, ponder it.

Tired—no pot to ponder “it.”

Tired nude, draw a star as a rat’s awarded under it.

Tired, nude, I, Ruby, do basic tests etc. … is a body buried under it?

“Tired nudes I met in a diadem, and a cadet, are both sure we rush to be rated,” a cad named Aidan itemised under it.

Tired nudes, pale, relapsed under it.

Tired nude Tatum stars as rats mutated under it.

Tired, nude, we lit a love volatile—wed under it!

Tired nugget I bit, egg under it.

Tired nutcases act under it.

Tired nut on pop, not under it.

Tired robot to border it.

Tire, drum, murder it.

Tire monster frets, “No merit?”

‘Tis a heme meme has it!

‘Tis a heron; or it is a hydrolytic city … Lordy, has it iron ore, has it?

“‘Tis arena fan era: Sit!”

“Tis as if is a sit.

“’Tis a wrong,” I say “a sign-or was it?”

‘Tis burlap: a pal rubs it.

‘Tis but an Irish sin if I finish, Sir, in a tub-sit.

‘Tis I, an ankle elk, Nana. Is it?

‘Tis I, daft Sal’s last fad, is it?

‘Tis I, is it?

‘Tis in a can I dump mud; in a can I sit.

‘Tis in a can, I’m Adam; in a can I sit.

“‘Tis in a can, I’m a damp rub,” I burp, “Madam, in a can I sit!”

“‘Tis in a can,” I puff, “It’s a hole—Tom’s Motel—oh, a stiff, up in a can, is it?”