1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12Southern baroque’s seductive dialogue
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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