1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown

5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave

9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress

12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14the bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum