1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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