1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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