1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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