1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone
5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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