Original Palindromes Oldest

Bush’s in a data warding issue: torpid as a re-voting nit over a sad “I, Proteus” sign I draw at a Danish sub.

Bush’s ire: “Promise…Sim—or perish sub!”

Bust on, “Snot Sub”!

Busy Amy may sub.

Busy LED under a dark-cap flower, omen of one more wolf-pack, radared nudely: sub.

Busy Ned did deny sub.

Busy van notes radar: a wastrel, alert, saw a radar set on navy sub!

But a lad and I hid Nadal a tub.

But a nip made lame female damp in a tub.

But an aide-de-camp, Ma, ceded Ian a tub.

But an item in a ribald lab I ran I met in a tub.

But an osteopath gilded a faded light; a poet’s on a tub.

But anise I revile decides Sarah Palin edibility ’til I—Biden—I lap harassed ice deliveries in a tub.

But Anita sat in a tub.

But Anita’s pomade—if it certified a cafe facade—if it rectified a mop—sat in a tub.

But Anita’s royal deportee, feet roped, lay or sat in a tub.

But as a wastrel (a revered loon) rots, a placid Arab mob held in a room made sure I’d lost if a fit soldier used ammo or an idle H-bomb a radical pastor (no older, ever-alert) saw as a tub.

But as we see, Lee sews a tub.

But at a Sinai bar, an Arabian is at a tub.

But at Embarcadero, bored, a crab met a tub.

But deliver a space cadet a pic named “Emancipated_Ace_Caps A_Reviled_Tub.”

But it is “it” I tub.

But, live dogma: I am God, evil tub!

But Nino is ired, Tab at derision in tub.

But no purist ass sat, sir, upon tub!

But no sign I’m mellow: AWOL lemming is on tub.

But no, Sununu’s on tub!

“But no toolsmiths I wish—” Giselle sighs, “I wish Tim’s loot on tub.”

“(But not sure by Amy)—maybe rust on tub?”

But now I won tub.