"'Alms?' asks the Abba, an anchorite, making amends..." Hac Ego Feci (I Made This): A Nonsense Alphabet in Rhyme

“Alms?” asks the Abba, an anchorite, making amends,
The Brooklyn-bred bookie makes book for his flutter-prone friends.
The caffeine-addicted make coffee in quantums absurd.
The divorced single mother of two must make do, dreams deferred.
The ex-employees make ends meet though they op at a loss.
Make fists, freedom fighter, to let the whole world know who’s boss.
The feminist’s first to make fun when her female friends marry.

The greengrocer’s grapes make the grade: “Our garnachas don’t vary.”
The governor-general makes good – as his pockets he’s lining.
The husbandman makes him some hay while the sun keeps on shining.
“Make haste, Hound of Heaven,: the bard Francis Thompson insists.
The headsman can’t make heads nor tails. (“Chop I necks? Lop I wrists?”)
The interpreter makes it his business to make it look simple.
The Jesuit jester makes jokes in a tunic and wimple.

The killer could make each Kardashian disappear fast.
Making landfall, the landlubber loves to make light of storms past.
The laddie makes love to his lassie, Loch Lomond in view.
The mom’s making mountains of molehills; she’s not unlike you.
The midget manqué makes the most of his height (he’s an elf).
The Norwegian who's made nothing of makes a name for himself.
Making out like a bandit, the outlaw makes off with your chest.

The octogenarian’s make-over’s make-shift – at best.
The optimist always makes out; make of that what you will.
The plump politician makes policy up on the Hill.
The Pope’s making peace, though he makes it post partisan slaughter.
The pederast priest makes a play for the President’s daughter.
The quarryman makes quite a splash, cannonballing from heights.
The Royalist raves: “Pairs of wrongs (when they’re mine) can make rights!”

The symposium student makes small talk. Such sucking up sucks.
The shark makes short work of the slow-swimming sailor. Aw-w-w, shucks!
The senator/statesman makes sure that his state remains free.
The traitor makes trouble by making things up – on TV.
The terrorist tries making tracks but gets taken in tow.
The urchin wears make-up in hopes of uploading a beau.
The vegan’s dilemma? That veal makes a very good stew.

The waiter makes water. (We all do: I do; you do, too.)
Is the wigmaker’s wife making waves when she wades without Wellies?
Women watching make way while these widowers writhe on their bellies.
The X-Acto knife expert makes ‘x’s by way of example
The yogi (named Yul) makes you wonder: are five yamas ample?
The zodiac makes zero sense: it’s no good in the day.
(Having first made my marks, I must now make a clean getaway.)