1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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